“Oh, father, father!” cried Fanny, weeping; “if you knew all that has occurred, you would not blame me.”

“What do you mean, darling?” asked Mr. Middleton, suddenly becoming cool.  “What has happened?”

Then looking at Julia, whose face was crimson, a new idea struck him, and he exclaimed more wrathfully, “How now, Tempest?  What makes you turn as red as a hickory fire?  Have you been raising a rumpus between Dr. Lacey and Sunshine?  Out with it if you have.”

It was now Julia’s turn to cry and appeal to her uncle, if it were not unjust in her father always to suspect her of evil, if anything were wrong.  William very wisely kept silent, but Fanny said, “Do not accuse Julia, for she is not guilty.  She knows it all, however, and is sorry for it.”

“Knows what?  Sorry for what?  Why don’t you tell?” said Mr. Middleton, stalking back and forth through the porch, and setting down his feet as heavily as if he would crush everything which might fall beneath his tread.

“I cannot tell you now,” said Fanny; “but when we are alone, you shall know all.”

In a few moments William thought proper to retire, and as his example was soon followed by Julia, Fanny was left alone with her parents.  Drawing her stool nearer to her father, and laying her hot, feverish forehead on his hand, she said, “Before I give any explanation, I wish you to make me a promise.”

“Promise of what?” asked her father and mother, simultaneously.

“It is not probable,” answered Fanny, “that you will ever see Dr. Lacey again, but if you do, I wish you never to mention to him what I am about to tell you.”

The promise was readily given by Mrs. Middleton, but her husband demurred, saying, “I shan’t commit myself until I know what ’tis.  If Dr. Lacey has been cuttin’ up, why I’ll cowhide him, that’s all.”

“Then I shall not tell you,” was Fanny’s firm reply.

Her father saw she was in earnest, and replied, “What’s got your back up so high, Sunshine?  I never knew you had so much grit.  What’s the reason you don’t want Dr. Lacey to hear of it?”

“Because,” said Fanny, hesitatingly, “because I do not wish him to know how much I care about it; and besides, it can do no possible good.  Now, father, promise you will not tell him or any one else.”

Mr. Middleton was finally persuaded, and his promise given, Fanny knew it would not be broken, for her father prided himself on keeping his word.  So she gave an account of Dr. Lacey’s conduct, and ended her narrative by producing a letter, which she supposed came from him.  Up to the moment Mr. Middleton had sat perfectly still; but meantime his wrath had waxed warmer and warmer, until at last it could no longer be restrained, but burst forth in such a storm of fury as made Fanny stop her ears.

She, however, caught the words, “And I was fool enough to promise not to say a word.  Well, thank the Lord, I didn’t promise not to shoot the puppy.  Let me catch him within pistol shot of me, and I’ll pop him over as I would a woodchuck.  And if he don’t come back, I’ll go all the way to New Orleans for the sake of doin’ on’t.  I’ll larn him to fool with my gal; yes, I will!”