"That makes no difference. I'm sorry. I couldn't," she persisted.
"Why, of course you can, my dear. You don't understand. You are not of age to make your own decisions yet, Laurel."
"Oh, yes, I am, father."
"But you're not. Not on a matter of this sort. Your mother and I have decided this for you."
"Does mother know of it?"
"Certainly, and approves. She is sending your trunks to-morrow."
Two little bright spots appeared in the center of Laurel's cheeks.
"The trunks will have to be sent back then," she announced. "How silly to have tried to force me like that!"
"We didn't think it would be forcing. We believed it would be a plan that would make you very happy. It was your mother's idea, to say nothing about it beforehand, to avoid, I believe, good-byes."
Laurel replied calmly, "I came down here for four days and I am going home in four days, father."
"This is home now," he told her.
"Oh, no, it isn't," she flashed back, "and it never will be home either, as long as my mother is alive." Laurel stood up. "Of course you can lock me up if you want to," she went on, "but I shan't stay any other way. Please understand that."
The bright spots on her cheeks had not disappeared. There were unfamiliar lines and shadows, too, about her chin and jaw. Helen and Stephen stared at her. They had never felt the steel in Laurel before.
