Winnie Childs by C. N. Williamson

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"Stop right there," broke in Peter's father. "That's damn nonsense,
and you know it. Nobody ever warned you that my boy was anything of
the kind."

"I was warned," she beat him down, "that it was a habit of your son to
win a girl's confidence with his kind ways and then deceive her."

"Then it was a damned lie, and no one but a damned fool would believe
it," shouted Peter Rolls, Sr. "My boy a deceiver of women? Why, he's a
Gala-what-you-may-call-it! He'd die any death sooner than harm a
woman. I'm his father, and I know what I'm talking about. Who the
devil warned you? Some beast, or some idiot?"

"It was neither."

"Who was it, then? Come, out with it. I dare you to. I'll have him
sued for slander. I'll---"

"It wasn't a he. It was a woman who ought to know at least as much
about him as you do."

"There's no such woman, except his mother, and she worships the ground
he walks on. Thinks he's a kind of up-to-date Saint George, and I'm
hanged if she's far wrong. Why, since Peter was a boy he's never cared
that"--and a yellow thumb and finger snapped for emphasis under Win's
eyes--"for any woman till he got silly over you."

The girl laughed a fierce little laugh. "You tell me this? You defend
him to me? Is that policy?"

Peter senior suddenly looked foolish. He had straightened himself to
glare at the upstart. Now he collapsed again.

"No, it _ain't_ policy," he confessed, "but I guess it's human nature.
My blood ain't quite dried up yet, and I can't sit quiet while anybody
blackguards my own flesh and bone. You tell me who said these things
about him!"

"I will not tell you."

"Don't you know I'm liable to have you discharged for impudence?"

"You can't discharge me, for I've already discharged myself. I'd
rather starve than serve one more day at your horrid old Hands."

"Horrid old Hands, eh? I can keep you from getting a job in any other
store."

"I don't want one. I've had enough of stores. I am not afraid of
anything you can do, Mr. Rolls. Though they do call you 'Saint Peter'
behind your back--meaning just the opposite--you haven't the keys of
heaven."

"You're an impudent young hussy."

"Perhaps. But you deserve impudence. You deserve worse, sir. A moment
ago I hated you. I--think I could have killed you. But--but now I
can't help admiring something big in you, that makes you defend your
son in spite of yourself, when it was policy to let me loathe him."

"'Loathe' is no word to use for my boy," the old man caught her up
again. "I don't want you to marry him, no! But, whatever happens, I
can't have you or any one else doing him black injustice."

"Then, 'whatever happens,' I'll admit to you that never in the bottom
of my heart did I believe those things. I didn't believe them to-day,
but I--you were so horrible--I had to be horrible, too. There! The
same motive that made you defend him against your own interest has
made me confess that to you now. But you needn't be afraid. I don't
think in any case I could have married him knowing how his--his family
would feel. Still I might, if he'd tried to persuade me; I can't be
sure. I might have been weak. As it is, though--after you've insulted
me in this cruel way, I believe nothing would induce me to say yes if
he asked me. And he never _has_ asked me."

"Never has asked you?" echoed Peter senior, dumbfounded.

Some one had begun to knock at the door, but he did not hear. Neither
did Winifred. Each was absorbed in the other. Insensibly their tones
in addressing each other were changed. Some other ingredient had
mysteriously mingled with their rage; or, poured upon its stormy
surface, had calmed the waves. They were enemies still, but the girl
had found the man human; the man, because he was man, found himself
yielding to her woman's domination.

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.

"H-m!" grunted Peter senior. "The girl ain't a coward, anyhow. She
stood up to me like a wildcat. Said she hated me. Said she wouldn't
take Peter if I paid her to--or words to that effect. Well, I didn't
exactly offer to pay her for doing that, rather the other way around.
But when she had the gorgeous cheek to up and say, after all, that she
_liked_ me for defending you, why, I--well, I don't know how it was,
but all of a sudden I weakened to her. She _got_ me same way as she
got you, Peter, I suppose. Maybe it was with one of her laughs!
Anyhow--look here, miss. If you'll take back _your_ words, I'll take
back _mine._ Cut 'em right out."

"Which words?" Win cautiously wanted to know.

"The whole lot, while we're about it. I guess a sister-in-law who's
got earls for cousins ought to be good enough for a _marchesa._ You've
_got_ me, I tell you! And you can have Peter, too, if you want him. Do
you?"

"I do," answered Win--and laughed again, the happiest, most surprised,
and excited laugh in the world.

"Then we've got each other--forever!" cried Petro. "And, Father, you
and I will have each other, too, after this, as we never had before.
You shall bless this day as I do, and as mother will."

"All right," said old Peter. "We'll see about that. Anyhow, shake
hands."

Petro shook.

"And you, too, girl."

Winifred hesitated slightly, then held out her burned fingers.

Peter senior gave them deliberately to his son.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "Now we're all three in the business."

"And this is the way we're going to run it in future," said Petro.
"With love."

THE END

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