"You probably met Slawson as you came in? You must have passed her on the road."
"No, the Ronalds brought me home in their car. We drove out along the mountain-road, to see the foliage. We came back the other way."
"Well, get your things off now. And when you've had your dinner, come back to me. Or—no! I'll ring!"
It darted through Katherine's mind that her grandmother spoke with singular self-repression. Again she regarded her with puzzled eyes. Such moderation could only breed suspicion, in a mind grown abnormal in solitary confinement.
The girl ate no dinner.
It was late before she heard the silver tinkle that sounded, in her ears, like the crack of doom.
It was well her grandmother bade her, with a gesture, to sit down. Her quaking knees would hardly have borne her, standing.
"I'm a coward! A poor, weak coward!" she confessed to herself bitterly, resenting her weakness, yet apparently powerless to control it.
"I've been thinking over what you told me, and I have concluded to change my tactics with regard to you," the old woman plunged in, without preamble. "Perhaps I've made a mistake in the past, keeping from you things you should have known. All I can say is, I acted in good faith, for your best."
Katherine smiled faintly. "Isn't that what parents always say when they punish?"