"Where have you been since dinner, Dad? I went from the top of the house
to the bottom looking for you."

"Had to go over to the drugstore to get a prescription filled. Can I do
anything for you?"

"Yes. Come and spend the evening with me," she coaxed.

Whitney laughed. "Can't, my dear. I have important work ahead of
me tonight."

"It must wait until tomorrow," coaxingly, stroking his cheek softly. "I
don't like these lines, Dad. Your health is more to be considered than
your work."

Whitney's air of tolerance turned to one of determination. "You are
wrong; my work is of primary importance. It's only a matter of hours now,
Kathleen; then I can loaf for the rest of my days."

She shook her head. "Unless you take rest you cannot stand the strain.
Mother tells me you worked all last night and far into the morning."

"My brain is clearer at night, and I have always required very little
sleep." He frowned with growing impatience. "There is no use discussing
the subject." He spoke in a tone which forbade further argument.

"Dad," Kathleen lowered her voice and moved closer to him, "has it
occurred to you that--that people are unduly curious about your
invention?"