The girl was summoned. Her fine face had lost some of its brownness, and the eyes seemed deeper and slower, but she was still a vision of grace and beauty as she stood in response to their call framed in the curtains of an archway. Her quick sense caught the tense atmosphere, and she came forward with parted lips and extended fingers. There was the glint of light on her white teeth. "Yes?" she said. "What is wrong? Can I help?"
"Your father has confessed," said Mrs. Hardy, trying hard to speak with judicial calm. "Now tell us about your relations with this young Elden, this cow puncher. Let us know the worst."
Irene's startled eyes flew from her mother to her father's face. And there they caught something that restored their calm.
"There was no worst," she said, with a ripple of laughter. "But there was a good deal of best. Shall I tell you the best?"
"Irene," said her mother, severely, "Did you permit that young man to make love to you?"
"I did not give him permission, if that answers you, because—he didn't ask it."
Mrs. Hardy had risen, "Andrew, you hear that? She confesses. And you, blind, blind, couldn't see it!"
"Is it very dreadful?" asked Irene.
"Yes, you mock me, too. Of course it's dreadful. Horrible. What will everybody say?"
"No worse than you have said, I'll be bound," put in the doctor.