UNDER FIRE
It was getting late and Torrance evidently becoming impatient, when Clavering, who had ignored the latter fact as long as he considered it advisable, glanced at Hetty with a smile. He stood by the piano in the big hall at Cedar Range, and she sat on the music-stool turning over one of the new songs he had brought her from Chicago.
“I am afraid I will have to go,” he said. “Your father is not fond of waiting.”
Though Hetty was not looking at him directly, she saw his face, which expressed reluctance still more plainly than his voice did; but just then Torrance turned to them.
“Aren’t you through with those songs yet, Clavering?” he said.
“I’m afraid I have made Miss Torrance tired,” said Clavering. “Still, we have music enough left us for another hour or two.”
“Then why can’t you stay on over to-morrow and get a whole night at it? I want you just now.”
Clavering glanced at Hetty, and, though she made no sign, fancied that she was not quite pleased with her father.
“Am I to tell him I will?” he asked.
Hetty understood what prompted him, but she would not commit herself. “You will do what suits you,” she said. “When my father asks any one to Cedar I really don’t often make myself unpleasant to him.”