I know just what I'm doing."
"Well," he reflected uneasily, after she had left him, "here's more trouble
in the family. If Edith isn't careful she'll make a fine mess of this whole
affair."
After dinner he went up to Deborah's room, but through the open doorway he
caught a glimpse of his daughter which made him instinctively draw back.
Sitting bolt upright in her bed, sternly she was eyeing herself in a small
mirror in her hand. Her father chuckled noiselessly. A moment later, when
he went in, the glass had disappeared from view. Soon afterwards Baird
himself arrived, and as they heard him coming upstairs Roger saw his
daughter frown, but she continued talking.
"Hello, Allan," she said with indifference. "I'm feeling much better this
evening."
"Are you? Good," he answered, and he started to pull up an easy chair. "I
was hoping I could stay awhile--I've been having one of those long mean
days--"
"I'd a little rather you wouldn't," Deborah put in softly. Allan turned to
her in surprise. "I didn't sleep last night," she murmured, "and I feel so
drowsy." There was a little silence. "And I really don't think there's any
need of your dropping in to-morrow," she added. "I'm so much
better--honestly."
Baird looked at her a moment.
"Right--O," he answered slowly. "I'll call up to-morrow night."
Roger followed him downstairs.
"Come into my den and smoke a cigar!" he proposed in hearty ringing tones.
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