Little Pet was not the least superstitious; because her father had taught her from infancy to pay no heed to dreams or signs; and because he had allowed no housemaid or fussy old woman to inoculate his young daughter with her own senseless and cowardly fears.  Pet smiled at the momentary terror which the strange old dream had caused, closed her eyes, and addressed herself again to sleep.  But, first, she drew up the weighty blankets over her little frame, as her father had told her to do.  She had already found out by experience, that a hot application of blankets was the best remedy for a young cold.

A low murmur, as of conversation, came from the adjoining room.  Then she remembered that Mr. Wilkeson was there when she had come to bed.  She said to herself:  “It cannot be late; for he never stops after ten o’clock.”  Then she began to think of some matters which had recently perplexed and distressed her greatly.  But she was so sleepy, that the thoughts came into her little head confusedly, and, several times, merged into dreams, and then came out again.  The low murmur of the talk outside, like the distant hum of a waterfall or a mill, was sedative.  The act of listening to it—­as she did for a few moments with natural curiosity—­was provocative of sleep.

* * * * *

The conversation suddenly grew louder.  The hollow voice of the inventor, and the deep bass of Marcus Wilkeson, could be heard alternating quickly.  These words reached little Pet: 

THE INVENTOR.  “We have had along conversation, Mr. Wilkeson, and I will end it by saying that it is best for us to separate, now and forever.”

MARCUS (bitterly).  “As you please, sir; but it is hard that a man’s reputation should be at the mercy of any scoundrel who knows how to write a libel, and has not courage enough to acknowledge it.”

THE INVENTOR (pettishly).  “I have told you a dozen times, that I despise anonymous letter writers.  They are ever liars and cowards.”

MARCUS.  “But you respected this one enough to adopt his suggestions.”

THE INVENTOR.  “So the magistrate uses hints that may be furnished him by professional thieves, for the detection of crime.  But he, none the less, loathes those who would inform upon their comrades.”

MARCUS.  “You believe, therefore, only what you have seen or heard for yourself.”

THE INVENTOR.  “Nothing further, I assure you.  In all matters of proof, it is my nature to be suspicious.”

MARCUS.  “But none of these accusations against me have been proved.”

THE INVENTOR.  “Why protract this painful conversation?  It is sufficient for me to say that we must part.—­(Excitedly.) Good heavens, sir! am I not the guardian of my daughter, and warranted in accepting or rejecting acquaintances for her?  Must I make long explanations to everybody that I don’t see fit to admit into my house and my daughter’s society?  Is not this a free country, sir?”