me, she did not approve of the way Henry was treating the reporter. A fleeting glimpse of his youth and good looks, so unlike Henry's description, seemed to increase her interest in him. Oldish, fat, and almost bald--indeed! Pity for the handsome young stranger had touched her heart; and pity so often borders on that emotional danger zone: love.  
Of all the unlooked for contingencies which could have arisen, this seemed to be about the worst. While I shared with Henry the honest indignation he felt at what he considered unjustifiable trickery and intrusion, yet I knew, deep down in me, I would side with Pat should she take the reporter's part. On this she seemed determined, judging from the expression on her face, cold and resolute, as Henry entered the hall, still snorting with anger.  
In the clatter of voices that followed his return from the field of storm and conflict, the voice of Pat rose in steady crescendo.  
"Uncle Henry! How could you be so inhuman?" she exclaimed. "You make us all feel--so cheap."  
Jane stretched out a warning hand. "Now, darling!" she admonished; "this is not necessary."  
"It is necessary!" replied Pat. "Uncle Henry has behaved shamefully, and should be scolded. I've half a mind to go to the garage myself, and apologize to this reporter for Uncle's cruel and unspeakable behavior."  
Henry regarded her quizzically for a moment, then smiled. "This has nothing to do with you, my dear," he said, as Orkins relieved him of his rain-coat and hat. "Why, I acted in the reporter's best interests. I sent him to the garage to be dried out when I should have booted him off the premises."  
"But he's wet--and miserable--and disappointed," said Pat, gravely. "You should send him some dry clothes, and go yourself, and give him this information he's worked so hard to get. You really ought!"  
"No!" thundered Henry, suddenly. "No matter if the papers send an army of reporters in motors, ships or airplanes, I refuse to give any information until the proper time, not if they tear the roof off." He took several fierce strides up and down the hall, then stopped dead, and again faced Pat. "Why, may I ask, are you so concerned in this driveling lunatic for news--this interfering, meddlesome young swine? Why?"  
There was a pause. Pat's face took on a wistful look. Then she replied:  
"Why? Because I feel sorry for him, I guess. Oh, you don't know, Uncle, how wonderful this reporter seems to me. Never thinking of himself--taking dangerous risks--just to get news for his paper. I never realized until now how people who haven't much money, have to struggle to make a living. But I suppose life is like that--outside," she went on, half meditatively: "struggle and disappointment. In time, I dare say I'll find out more about life and get used to it, 

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