Petro said God had made her a princess. She was only a shop girl, and the vain old man wanted her out of his way—intended to put her out of his way, by hook or by crook; but all the same in look and manner she was his ideal of a girl queen, and he could understand Petro being a fool over her.
“He never has asked you? But I thought—–”
(Tap, tap, for the second and third time.)
“I know what you thought. You wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain.”
(Tap, tap, tap! No answer. And so the door opened.)
“It isn’t only that your son hasn’t asked me to marry him, he hasn’t even told me he cared.”
“But he does both now,” said Peter Rolls, Jr., on the threshold.
As he spoke he came into the room with a few long, quick steps that took him straight to Win, as if he wanted to protect her against his father if need be. And timidly, yet firmly, he was followed by Mrs. Rolls, wearing the new gray wrap.
“I’d have told you long ago if I’d had the chance,” he went on. “I told father this morning that I’d loved you ever since the first minute I saw you, and that you were the only girl who ever was or ever would be. I don’t know what he’s been saying to you, but I felt he meant to—to—see what you were like. So I came. And nothing matters if you can care a little and have faith enough in me to—–”
“That’s just what she doesn’t do and hasn’t got!” interpolated Peter senior. “The girl’s been calling you every name she could turn her tongue to. Said she was warned against you by some woman—she wouldn’t tell me who it was—–”
“I know who it was,” put in his son.
“You do? We’ll send her a writ, then—–”
“We can’t. She isn’t in the country just now.”
“I did say the most hateful things,” Win admitted, “because your father made me so angry. And—he defended you against me! He said nobody but a fool could ever for a minute have believed such things were true. And he was perfectly right. Can you forgive me?”
“Why, I love you, you know,” said Peter. “And whether you ever believed anything wrong of me or not, I—I almost think you love me a little now to make up. You couldn’t look at me like that if you didn’t, could you? It wouldn’t be fair.”
“I mustn’t look at you at all, then,” Win answered, pushing him gently away as he tried to take her hands. “Please let me go. I can’t—–”
“I wouldn’t let you go, if he did, my dear,” said a gentle voice that had not spoken yet. “I guess a girl that saves people from themselves when they’re on fire, burning up, and don’t know in the least what they’re doing, would be just the kind of new daughter we would like to have now when we have to let our own leave us. Why, you would be worth your weight in gold at our house. Isn’t that so, Father?”
For once mother had finished four consecutive sentences in her husband’s presence. But this was an unusual occasion It seemed to her that its like could never come again, and that here was her chance of a lifetime to stand by Petro.