"Cutting off his own nose to spite his face, eh?" asked Zeke, taking the
slip of paper.

"Yes, and mine. It's going to come heavy on me. I could have shaken that
woman with her airs and graces. Catch her or Mamzell lifting _their_
hands!"

"Yet they want her, do they?"

"No, Stupid! That's why she's coming. Can't you understand?"

"Blessed if I can," returned the boy as he left the barn; "but I know
one thing, I pity the kid."



Mr. Evringham received a prompt answer to his message. His son
appointed, as a place of meeting, the downtown hotel where he and his
wife purposed spending the night before sailing.

Father and son had not met for years, and Mr. Evringham debated a few
minutes whether to take the gastronomic and social risk of dining with
Harry _en famille_ at the noisy hotel above mentioned, or to have dinner
in assured comfort at his club--finally deciding on the latter course.

It was, therefore, nearly nine o'clock before his card was presented to
Mr. and Mrs. Harry, to whom it brought considerable relief of mind, and
they hastened down to the dingy parlor with alacrity.