"Oh, father," murmured the girl for all answer, turning away to the window, where the dusk had deepened to darkness.
"I hope he won't do that without your permission," said Mrs. Penniman, very graciously.
"After all, my dear, he seems to have yours," her brother answered.
Lavinia simpered, as if this might not be quite enough, and Catherine, with her forehead touching the window-panes, listened to this exchange of epigrams as reservedly as if they had not each been a pin-prick in her own destiny.
"The next time he comes," the Doctor added, "you had better call me. He might like to see me."
Morris Townsend came again, some five days afterwards; but Dr. Sloper was not called, as he was absent from home at the time. Catherine was with her aunt when the young man's name was brought in, and Mrs. Penniman, effacing herself and protesting, made a great point of her niece's going into the drawing-room alone.
"This time it's for you—for you only," she said. "Before, when he talked to me, it was only prelimi-
