make on him. They are never satisfied. The more he yields, the more they
demand. It's begging letters, petitions, lawsuits, strikes, until he is
driven almost crazy."

The whirr of an approaching motor caused them both to look up. A grizzled
man of fifty got out and, after a decisive order to the chauffeur, turned
to join them. His movements were quick and nervous, and his eyes restless
under their shaggy gray brows.

"Where's the boy?" was his first query after the greetings were over.

"He went to choir practice. I thought surely he would come out with you.
Hadn't we better send the machine back for him?"

"We were just speaking of that fine lad of yours," said the bishop,
helping himself to yet another sandwich. "Fine eyes, frank, engaging
manner! I suppose he is too young yet for you to be considering his
future calling?"

"Indeed he isn't!" said Mrs. Clarke. "My heart is set on the law. Two of
his Clarke grandfathers have been on the bench."

Mr. Clarke smiled somewhat grimly.

"Mac hasn't evinced any burning ambition in any direction as yet."

"Mac is only thirteen," said Mrs. Clarke with dignity; "all of his
teachers will tell you that he is wonderfully bright, but that he lacks
application. I think it is entirely their fault. They don't make the
lessons sufficiently interesting; they don't hold his attention. He has