anything about it."
"But, Kitty darling," said Barker, grasping his wife's hand, "I gave my
note for it; you know you said that was bargain enough, and I had better
wait until the note was due, and until I found I couldn't pay, before I
gave up the claim. It was very clever of you, and the boys all said so,
too. But you never deceived your father, dear," he said, looking at her
gravely, "for I should have told him everything."
"Of course, if you look at it in that way," said his wife languidly,
"it's nothing; only I think it ought to be remembered when people go
about saying papa ruined you with his hotel schemes."
"Who dares say that?" said Barker indignantly.
"Well, if they don't SAY it they look it," said Mrs. Barker, with a
toss of her pretty head, "and I believe that's at the bottom of Stacy's
refusal."
"But he never said a word, Kitty," said Barker, flushing.
"There, don't excite yourself, George," said Mrs. Barker resignedly,
"but go for the baby. I know you're dying to go, and I suppose it's time
Norah brought it upstairs."
At any other time Barker would have lingered with explanations, but just
then a deeper sense than usual of some misunderstanding made him anxious
to shorten this domestic colloquy. He rose, pressed his wife's hand, and
went out. But yet he was not entirely satisfied with himself for leaving
her. "I suppose it isn't right my going off as soon as I come in," he
murmured reproachfully to himself, "but I think she wants the baby back
as much as I; only, womanlike, she didn't care to let me know it."
He reached the lower hall, which he knew was a favorite promenade for
the nurses who were gathered at the farther end, where a large window
looked upon Montgomery Street. But Norah, the Irish nurse, was not among
them; he passed through several corridors in his search, but in vain.
At last, worried and a little anxious, he turned to regain his rooms
through the long saloon where he had found his wife previously. It
was deserted now; the last caller had left--even frivolity had its
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