It could not be the result of business troubles, she knew; for business was good; and he denied that the widening break between his father and himself bothered him. Yet David was less happy. So Fidelia was dealing her cards of fortune, one to the right, one to the left, when some one knocked at her door.
This was no timid knock of a chamber-maid or of a boy bringing up letters; it was the positive summons of a man full of his message and although it was nearly an hour earlier than she expected father Herrick, Fidelia knew it was he; his rap was as unmistakable as though she saw him.
For an instant she had a desire to have her hair "up" and arranged and to be in her suit as though she were going out or at least as though she had some occupation in prospect. She started to gather up the cards; then she desisted and left them on the table and merely closed her diary before she called: "Come in."
As the door opened, she arose and father Herrick gazed at her and then glanced past her at the cards. He said: "I have interrupted you, Fidelia."
"No; come in, father Herrick," she invited, but he stepped back from the door as he again observed her.
"I will wait, Fidelia," he said sternly. "When you are ready, you may let me know."
Fidelia flushed but she was glad she had left the cards spread out. Since it shocked him, anyway, to find her as she was, she liked to give him an extra fillip; but he always succeeded in making her sorry.
