“But you frightened her with that jailbird.  You should have brought a real clergyman.”

“The man I brought has the power to perform marriages!  I would have made a nice spectacle towing a clergyman into that mess, wouldn’t I?”

She broke in upon his further speech.  She wrung her hands, paltering, pleading, trying to explain, trying more desperately to postpone that settlement he was demanding.

“But, honestly, it did seem to be a good plan, Dicky.  I’m her mother.  I know her nature.  You know how some natures have to be handled!  She is so self-centered.  She has to be taken by surprise.  She has to know that she is making a sacrifice.  That is why I arranged it all for Rose Alley and borrowed that house.  And I had it all planned out what to say to her at the last moment there.”

“Well, what was this great thing you were going to say?” He glared at her, disgust and suspicion in his eyes.

She flushed.  She hesitated, unable to meet his gaze.

“It’s no use to tell you now, Dicky.  Somehow, now that I come to think it all over, it sounds rather tame.  It all did seem so plausible, what I was going to say when I sat down and planned out the thing.  And the romance of it—­you know even self-centered girls like to feel that a man wants them so much that he gets desperate—­and she said once that she would marry you some time—­perhaps—­and—­”

“Oh, you—­you—­” He broke in and then stopped, lacking words.  “What’s the use?” he muttered.  “You don’t even know your own daughter.  She has been enduring me because you have been keeping at her.  I understand it now.  You told me you could hurry it up.  You have made me look like a melodrama villain.  You have made her hate me.  Now own up!  Didn’t she rave to you after you got home and tell you she hated me?  You have nailed me to the cross for ever where she is concerned—­now haven’t you?  Own up.”

“I can win her back, Dicky.  Give me a little time.”  But she was not able to look at him.  “Don’t scold me any more.  I’m her mother.  She will obey her own mother in time.  Don’t hurt my sensitive nature any more.”  She began to weep, twisting her rings on her trembling fingers.

He scowled at her, narrowing his eyes.  “You haven’t been playing square with me, Mrs. Kilgour.”

“Call me Mother Kilgour, Dicky, just as you always have.”

“I won’t stand for any more bluffing, Mrs. Kilgour.  Kate has sworn to you that she will never marry me—­now hasn’t she?”

“But I can talk her around—­you can win her back.  I’ll tell her it was my plan—­I’ll have courage to tell her later—­”

“So you have been laying that crazy idea all to me?”

“But I’ll get up courage to tell her some day—­and your devotion will win her back—­devotion always wins.  You can—­”