"Oh, I guess I finished him. I gave him a piece of my mind, and her, too. Cly's got too much sense not to see through him. I hope you'll win her, Blanchard. I'm getting to be an old man, and I want to see her happily settled. This exposure has hit me pretty hard, and if Clytie had taken up with that palmist on top of that, I don't know what I'd do. Go in and get her, Blanchard—I'm glad she's consented to go off on this trip. It'll do her good. It ought to give you a good chance."
"You can trust me for that! I think the time has about come to force the game. I may have something to say to you by the time we come back."
"I hope so, indeed!" said the old man.
Clytie came down with her bag and kissed her father affectionately. "Are you going to be at home this afternoon?" she asked him.
"Why, yes, I thought of it. Is there anything I can do for you?"
She hesitated. "N-no, only if any one should call—never mind—only there's no knowing when we may be back," she added, looking at Cayley. "Blanchard has threatened to elope with me, you know! I'm terribly afraid he won't keep his promise, though." She took his arm and ran him down the steps madly, tossing her father a kiss from the path.
Mr. Payson watched them complacently, as Clytie hurried her escort through the gate. They had plenty of time to catch the boat, and her haste was unusual. She had hinted that the clock was slow, but his watch assured him that that was not so. He shook his head.
They had not been gone fifteen minutes when word was brought up-stairs to Mr. Payson that a gentleman was waiting to see him. The visitor would not give his name. The old man went down.
At sight of the caller, his face set hard and grim. His shaggy brows drew over his spectacles. He stopped suddenly, but, before he could speak, Granthope had come forward.
"I must beg your pardon, Mr. Payson, for not sending up my name, for coming here at all, in fact; but it is absolutely necessary for me to see you this afternoon. My business is important enough to be its own apology."