"I'm going up to-morrow. They'd have been off over a week ago, but Barbara insisted that she must see him first and ask him to forgive her for deceiving him. She thinks she's a criminal."
"Dear little saint," said Eloise, softly. "I wish none of us ever did anything more wicked than that."
"So do I, but there is an active remnant of a New-England conscience somewhere in Barbara. I'm not sure that the old man hasn't it, too."
"Do you suppose, for a moment, that he won't forgive her?"
"If he doesn't," returned Allan, concisely, "I'll break his ungrateful old neck. I hope she won't stir him up very much, though—he's got a bad heart."
Miriam's Welcome
Still, the old man showed no sign of weakness as he went briskly up the walk and knocked at his own door. When Miriam opened it, astonishment made her welcome almost inarticulate, for she had not expected him home so soon. He gave her the small black satchel that he carried, his coat and hat.
"How is Barbara?" he asked, eagerly. "How is my little girl?"
"Well enough," answered Miriam.