“Father,” said Annie, “you know if I came home now it would be just the same as it was before. You know if I give in and break my word with myself to stay away a year what they will think and do.”
“I suppose they might take advantage,” admitted Silas, heavily. “I fear you have always given in to them too much for their own good.”
“Then I shall not give in now,” said Annie, and she shut her mouth tightly.
There came a peal of the cracked door-bell, and Silas started with a curious, guilty look. Annie regarded him sharply. “Who is it, father?”
“Well, I heard Imogen say to Eliza that she thought it was very foolish for them all to stay over there and have the extra care and expense, when you were here.”
“You mean that the girls—?”
“I think they did have a little idea that they might come here and make you a little visit—”
Annie was at the front door with a bound. The key turned in the lock and a bolt shot into place. Then she returned to her father, and her face was very white.
“You did not lock your door against your own sisters?” he gasped.
“God forgive me, I did.”