"Dorinda says Mrs. Colton is an invalid. Poor woman! it must be hard
to be ill when one has so much to enjoy. Dorinda says they have a very
pretty daughter."

I made no comment. I was not interested in pretty daughters, just then.
The memory of the girl in the auto was too fresh in my mind.

"Did you go to the post-office, Roscoe?" asked Mother. "I suppose there
were no letters. There seldom are."

Then I remembered the letter in my pocket. I had forgotten it
altogether.

"Why, yes, there was a letter, a letter for me. I haven't read it yet."

I took the envelope from my pocket and drew out the enclosure. The
latter was a note, very brief and very much to the point. I read it.

"Well, by George!" I exclaimed, angrily.

"What is it, Roscoe?"

"It appears to be a summons from what Captain Jed called the King of New
York. A summons to appear at court."

"At court?"

"Oh, not the criminal court. Merely the palace of his Majesty. Just
listen."