"Why are you so dry, Catherine?" Mrs. Penniman said at last.
"So dry?"
"So cold—so irresponsive."
The girl turned, very quickly. "Did he say that?"
Mrs. Penniman hesitated a moment. "I will tell you what he said. He said he feared only one thing—that you would be afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of your father."
Catherine turned back to the fire again, and then, after a pause, she said—"I am afraid of my father."
Mrs. Penniman got quickly up from her chair and approached her niece. "Do you mean to give him up, then?"
Catherine for some time never moved; she kept her eyes on the coals. At last she raised her head and looked at her aunt. "Why do you push me so?" she asked.
"I don't push you. When have I spoken to you before?"
"It seems to me that you have spoken to me several times."
