"Will you come with me, son?" The Laird inquired eagerly.

"Certainly not! You shall come with me. This is to be my party."

"Can you stand the pressure? I'm liable to prove an expensive
traveling companion."

"Well, there's something radically wrong with both of us if we can't
get by on two hundred thousand dollars, dad."

The Laird started, and then his Scotch sense of humor--and, for all
the famed wit of the Irish, no humor on earth is so unctuous as that
of the Scotch--commenced to bubble up. He suspected a joke on himself
and was prepared to meet it.

"Will you demand an accounting, my son?"

Donald shook his head.

"Keeping books was ever a sorry trade, father, I'll read the
accounting in your eye when you get back to Port Agnew."

"You braw big scoundrel! You've been up to something. Tell it me, man,
or I'll die wi' the suspense of it."

"Well," Donald replied, "I lived on twenty-five hundred a year in
college and led a happy life. I had a heap of fun, and nothing went by
me so fast that I didn't at least get a tail-feather. My college
education, therefore, cost me ten thousand dollars, and I managed to