"And how's that good-looking son of yours, Mahr?"

Mahr shot an underbrow glance at Gard, and took his time to answer.

"If he does what I want him to," he said at last, "he'll take a year or
two out West and learn the lumber business--and I think he will."

"Good idea," said Gard curtly. "Good-night."

One day of restlessness succeeded another. Ill at ease, Gard felt
himself waiting--for what? It was the strain of anxiety, such as a miner
feels deep in the heart of the earth, knowing that far down the black
corridor the dynamite has been placed and the fuse laid. Why was the
expected explosion delayed? One must not go forward to learn. One must
sit still and wait. A thousand times he asked himself the meaning of
this latent dread. He set it down to his suspicions of Mrs. Marteen's
departure. Then why this fibril anxiety never to be long beyond call?
Surely, and the demon in his brain laughed with amusement, he did not
expect her to send him a cryptic wireless--"Everything arranged;
operation a success; appendix removed without opposition," or "Patient
unmanageable; must use anesthetic."

Four days had passed, four miserable days, relieved only by a few
pleasant hours with Dorothy and the enjoyment he always found in
watching her keen delight in every entertainment. He went everywhere,
where he felt sure of seeing her, and could he have removed Teddy Mahr
from the obviously reserved place at Dorothy's side, he could have
enjoyed those moments without the undercurrent of his troubled fears.
That Mahr was rebelliously angry at the situation was evident. Gard had