cession to city ideas. He was closely shaven, as he always was in the morning; his brows shaggy, his eyes clear and steady. He scrutinized her keenly and suddenly asked, "Who's listening about?"
"No one, I think," Ethel said.
"Make sure of it," he commanded; and Ethel complied. She no longer feared that Barney had suffered any "accident." Her grandfather's errand menaced her, she knew, but in some different manner from her first apprehension. He had succeeded in making her anxious to hear; and, aware of this, he delayed.
"They've made you comfortable here, have they?"
"Very comfortable, grandfather."
"H'm! Of course you've gone your own way; no one to interfere with you, eh?"
"No one," Ethel replied.
"You little fool!" he accused her commiseratingly. "Can't you feel even when your own flesh and blood tries to protect you?"
"From what, grandfather?"
"Had it ever occurred to you that the reason your father never came to my house was that he couldn't?"
"No," Ethel said.
"Think over it a minute."
"Why?"
"Why wouldn't I have him there? He couldn't tell you, I wouldn't. I thought I'd never have to: but you've forced me. This fellow you call Loutrelle. I told you to bring him to see me, didn't I? The first moment I heard you were with him, I said to you, 'Tell him to come to see me!' But you were both so smart; you wanted to do everything yourself. He didn't come."
"He came the next morning, grandfather."
