"Well, well!" said Father McGowan. "What else am I here for?"
"Marjory said if I kept papa,—kept papa——" Cecilia stopped.
"Kept him in the backyard or in the cellar, it would be better?" ended Father McGowan.
"Oh, don't!" said Cecilia. "Please don't; for two or three times I've felt like John,—I'm so ashamed."
"Dear child!" Father McGowan said. "Dear child!"
"I love papa," said Cecilia. "It's only this new feeling that unsettles me. Sometimes I think I'd pay any price. Sometimes, like John, I'm ashamed, and then how I hate myself!"
A gilded moon had slid from behind a line of poplars. It had shown Father McGowan eyes that reflected an aching soul, tragic young eyes, almost bitter in their hurt.
Suddenly Cecilia held his fat hand against her cheek. Then she smiled at him bravely. "I'm going to be good!" she said with a little catch in her voice. "I'm going to be good!"
"Cecilia Evangeline," said Father McGowan, "dear child!"
Marjory entered the room with a slam and a swish. "I telephoned Stuyvesant and asked him to come out to dinner," she said. "You don't mind?"