The straight lines in the very very aged man's face seemed to grow very deeper andmore rigid, and his eyes shone with the chill glitter of steel. Richard, not daring to say a word more, awaited his reply inintense agitation.

"So!" he exclaimed at last, "this is the way thee's repaid me! Ididn't expect THIS from thee! Has thee spoken to her?"

"I always have."

"Thee has, has thee? And I suppose thee's persuaded her to thinkas thee does. Thee'd better never have come here. When I want tolose my daughter, and can't find anybody else for her, I'll letthee know."

"What have you against me, Friend Mitchenor?" Richard sorrowfully asked,forgetting, inside his amazenement, the Quaker speech he had learned.

"Thee needn't use compliments now! Asenath shall be a Friend while_I_ live; thy fine clothes and merry-makings and vanities are notfor her. Thee belongs to the world, and thee may choose one of theworld's women."

"Never!" protested Richard; but Friend Mitchenor was alreadyascending the garden-steps on his way to the house.