"Better run upstairs, now, Kathie," said Mr. Bingle, abruptly. "Skedaddle! Go up the back way, dear." He thought of the back-stairs just in time. It wouldn't do for her to encounter the strange, perhaps unfeeling emissaries in the main hall. No telling what they might do. They might even take forcible possession of her and be off before help could be summoned.
"I want to stay here with you, daddy," protested Kathleen, resolutely clinging to her perch on his knee—and was not to be dislodged. Before Mr. Bingle could utter another word, Diggs appeared in the door and announced Mr. Force. Instantly Kathleen's manner changed. She released her grip on Mr. Bingle's arm and slid to the floor. "Oh, I hate him! I don't want to see him."
"Kathie!" cried Mrs. Bingle, distressed. "You should not say such things. Mr. Force is very nice to you. He likes you—"
"He gives me a pain," said Kathleen succinctly.
"Good heavens!" gasped Mr. Bingle. "Where did you learn such language as that?"
"It isn't language, daddy," said Kathie. "It's just slang. Everybody uses it. Don't people give you a pain sometimes?"
"Never!" said he. "I don't believe in slang," he added, as if to fortify himself against a conviction. "You needn't go, deary. Stay and see Mr. Force."
"I don't want to see him. I want to see Fairy. Oh, daddy, what are you going to let her get married for? I know Freddie will commit suicide if she marries that old Flanders."
"Freddie? What business is it of his?"
"I mustn't tell," she said, suddenly realising that she had been on the point of betraying a grave secret. An instant later she was off like the wind, whisking out of one door as Mr. Force entered by the other.