Waldron was the last of these, and Raymond's ambition had always been
some day to return to North Hill House and dwell in his grandfather's
home.

At luncheon the party of three sat at a round table on a polished floor
of oak. Estelle played hostess and gazed with frank admiration at the
chattering visitor. He brought a proposition that made her feel very
excited to learn what her father would think of it.

Mr. Waldron was tall and thin. He lived out of doors and appeared to be
made of iron, for nothing wearied him as yet. He had high cheek-bones,
and a clean-shaved, agreeable face. He took sport most seriously, was
jealous for its rights and observant of its rituals even in the smallest
matters. Upon the etiquette of all field sports he regarded himself, and
was regarded, as an arbiter.

"Tell me how it went," he said. "I hope your brother was sporting?"

Mr. Waldron used this adjective in the widest possible sense. It
embraced all reputable action and covered virtue. If conduct were
'sporting,' he demanded no more from any man; while, conversely,
'unsporting' deeds condemned the doer in all relations of life and
rendered him untrustworthy from every standpoint.

"Depends what you call 'sporting,'" answered Raymond, whose estimate of
the word was not so comprehensive. "You'd think it would have been
rather a case for generosity, but Dan didn't seem to see that. It's
unlucky for me in a way he's not larger-minded. He's content with
justice--what he calls justice. But justice depends on the mind that's