for she knew well that if he learned that the man who had not even answered his own letter was in secret correspondence with the ladies of his own family—that is how he would put it—the fact would add fuel to the flame, would change chagrin to fury. And so she steeled herself to the quiet endurance of suffering.

The blow fell at breakfast time when her father had looked through the few letters which lay beside his plate.

"Well, I do think that that young man's rudeness is unpardonable!"

Joy looked up with a pleasant smile which belied the chilly feeling about her heart. She felt that she must pretend ignorance; her father might, later on, hold a too ready acceptance as suspicious:

"What, Daddy? Who? Whose rudeness?"

"That—that gentleman whom I asked to dine with us. Mr. Hardy."

"Perhaps he may not have got your letter."

"How do you mean, daughter? He must have got it; I directed it to the address he gave me himself."

"But Daddy, he may be away. You remember he told you at dinner that day in the Holland that he had important business. It may have been prolonged you know. He may not even be in London."

"Then he should see that his letters are duly sent on to him."

"Certainly he ought. But perhaps Daddy he's not as careful as we are. He may not be a man of business!" Colonel Ogilvie smiled:

"I'm afraid that is a very bad argument my dear. You have just used the opposite!"

"How so, Daddy?" she asked wrinkling up her brows.

"You said he might be away on business!" He was so pleased with his combating of her argument that her purpose was effected; he abandoned the subject—for a time.