"Well, it was just this way. You see I knew father wanted Morton Wood to be his partner, and I told you what that means, but father won't do a thing that I don't like-I know that. He spoils me terbly" (Phyllis thinks she can say "terribly," but she can't), "but I do want to act so as he will be happy if I can. Perhaps it's because I am spoilt, but I felt certain Morton Wood wasn't going to please me as father's partnerhe's so masterful, and I know I couldn't do all the silly things I do now if he was around, just to go away to Newhaven, Phyllis didn't tell me what she feared Morton might think; she put her face against mine, and we didn't say anything for a minute. I think it must have been during that pause that my headache left me altogether! Presently she went on "Then, that half-brother of yours is a very bright young looking grave and saying nothing. And then I began comparing him with Mr man. I've got it all out of Chaloner, who's twice as lovely in several ways; and I felt dreadfully badly about it, and sure that somebody more like him would make father a much better sort of partner." I began to feel a little cold again at this point, I must admit, and Phyllis went on "Well, I found out from Mr Chaloner that he is just crazy to get work out here in America, and that seemed to suit father's plans, if only he knew enough about business. Then, of course, lots of silly girls do like the notion of being English peeresses, and it might have been some slight satisfaction once to walk in front of Ella Bradmore, you know. But then I remembered I don't want to copy Ella Bradmore in anything, when I came to consider it, so finally I decided him just as I thought I would. He has a reason for coming over here besides wanting to get away from his tiresome mother. (He didn't tell me she was tiresome, but I got that out too.) He hasn't exactly told me what the reason is, but if it isn't some girl he is thinking about all the time, then I don't know anything about a young English way of hiding his emotions. You think he is heiress-hunting over here. I guess he is hunting dollars, but honest dollars, and not that way." "Couldn't Morton Wood tell you something about him? for he went to Morton after he had asked for work at all sorts of useless places, and Morton said he would send him to father. I wonder if Morton didn't believe that would please me? Anyway, he did send him, and that's where he has been. First at Boston and then at home, hoping to find Dad there. But Dad wasn't there, and I found him-that is, Mr Chaloner-in the car on the Boston train to-day on his way back, and brought him right along. Then yesterday morning Willy Daniell told me father had been worried by some men in Cincinnati, and looked like being hurt in some big interest he has there. I felt so badly at being away that, instead of going home, I telephoned and found father was here, and came to New York. I couldn't be away from father when he is worried -even to be an English peeress. Phyllis smiled at herself very contentedly. I told her I was thankful she had come, that her father had been dreadfully worried, and could she imagine who had helped him completely and honourably out of the difficulty, and so very honourably to himself? Phyllis said she couldn't imagine, and I went on to tell her how wise and dear I thought she was about thinking things out quietly, and that, after all, her father came first meantime; and surely it must be right to have his business affairs on a safe basis before he grew old. I don't think any one would suit him better than Morton. "No, dear, my headache isn't so bad now; it's nearly gone, thank you. And then it seems as if it would have been a good chance to arrange it just as Morton has thrown over his own business; but he tells me he has decided to go out West, and to go at once, and perhaps, as he is a resolute man, one can't alter his plans." I was watching Phyllis's face very closely, and if I didn't see pain in her eyes at the notion of Morton Wood going away to the West, I will never trust my senses again! "Now, Phyllis, dear, I want to think out something. Give me a kiss and go home to Park Avenue and see if your father isn't there by now." Phyllis kissed me and went home. She was very quiet and subdued. I let her out through my bedroom and down the corridor. Then I went back and found Gerald and, in my excitement, I quite forgot to begin talking to him the way I intended; and instead, I went at it, so to speak, tooth and nail, and we had “a regular scrap" for two or three minutes, as he described it afterwards. I accused him. of want of confidence in me, and he accused me of something very much the same in regard to him, and though we were within an ace of dragging in his mother once or twice, we did, without dragging her in (and it was rather clever of us), contrive to own up that we had each suspected the other of being in an heiresshunting plot. He had been told so of me and I had been told so of him,—but of course if we denied it there was an end of such horrid insinuations, and we would be friends after all. I told him Miss Perkins had made me see how wrong I had been about him. We begged each other's pardon, and I felt a perfect pig for having misread him so badly, and I don't think I ever was more pleased than when I began to see what a capital, straightforward, English boy he is. I couldn't ask him about that photograph then, but I remembered Phyllis's "result of analysis," and I was sure I should hear all in good time who that pretty girl was, and why Gerald wanted to collect dollars in America. Then I remembered Morton, and that I had to think out something. I made Gerald sit down and promise to help me. I told him frankly what it all was, and he said he knew Morton was going West, and at once, he might be going even now. I said that must be stopped, that Mr Perkins couldn't do without him. Gerald said, "Get a hat and coat and come along to 24th Street; I'll go with you." Of all the meddling things I ever did, I suppose that was about the worst. I wouldn't stop a moment for fear of thinking what John would say. I crammed on a hat and struggled into my coat in the elevator and worked on my gloves as we hurried up Fifth Avenue. Gerald was capital: he was so quiet and steady, it did me good, and I was just chuckling with satisfaction in having "discovered" him at last. We had rung Morton's bell before I had time to hesitate, and in another minute we were in the sitting-room of the flat, and I was beginning to remember that he shares it with four other men, and that they might all be there as well. But they were not, and the room was empty. It showed some traces of packing,—a desk was lying open on a chair, with papers tumbling into it, and a leather cover ready to strap on. Morton came from a back room and welcomed us very courteously. "I was just going to write you a note, Mrs Ogilvie, and say good-bye. I am going to Chicago to-night." to "I thought you might be going and that's why we have come. Gerald has come help me. I want to persuade you to wait a little. Mr Perkins wants your help so much; don't you think you could delay?" "Mr Perkins is kindness itself, but when all's said and done it's best for me to go." Morton turned to Gerald. "I've been talking to Mr Perkins about you, and feel sure he will be glad to give you work. I believe you will suit each other very well. He is a fine man, and now he is getting old he wants someone to take up the threads that are just a little too numerous for him to hold. He wants to steady down and settle the business and not run the risks he has been used to and enjoyed running up till now. If you will let him train you in his ways, and all the time just remember that it is help to settle things permanently that he requires, you will be of use to him, and he will grudge you no return that you can reasonably expect. His voice was very steady. "I can't thank you enough," Gerald said, "but there is one thing I have to say. I do want work very badly, and I want to make money-indeed I must, for reasons I need not name. I would willingly, and very loyally, serve Mr Perkins; what you tell of him makes that service seem pleasant and honourable. But my sister says Mr Perkins can't do without you. Now, couldn't you be his partner, as he wants, and let me serve you both? Indeed, it will be better. I want your teaching. We want your guidance. He wants you far more than he wants me. He only wants me because you ask him and perhaps because Miss Perkins asks him. She only asked him because she is kind-hearted, and I think she knows my reason for coming over here to try and make money and it seemed to rouse her sympathies." loftier expression of goodwill than shone in his eyes as he watched Gerald. way. Neither of them said more. Morton turned to me. "Mrs Ogilvie, you get your I won't go to-night. I'll wait a little, as you say I should. And how much I thank you for coming, I'll try to show you some day. I was afraid of getting sentimental and choky, and of saying something I didn't intend to say, so I rather cut short Morton's kind expressions and dragged Gerald away. Morton wanted to help to escort me home, but I wouldn't let him; only I made him promise to come and see me next day. So Gerald and I set out, and I got ahold of his arm, for it was slippery on the side-walks, and we went along very friendly. He told me how thankful he would be if Mr Perkins really would put him into something that would give him work. How, ever since he had failed for the army-and he "Will you tell us the thought he could have passed reason?" I said. "I don't see why I shouldn't. I'm not ashamed of it," said Gerald rather hotly and blushing in a way that made me long to kiss him. "I want to marry someone-someone who is not engaged to me, because, perhaps, I'm not old enough yet, and because I have no money; but I am engaged to her, and I hope she will be to me some day." Morton's face was pleasant to watch. I never saw a finer smile on a man's face or a all right if only his mother hadn't begged and implored him to give it up before the next examination came onsomething always seemed to prevent him getting anything to do that would take him away from home and enable him to be independent. "Of course my mother is awfully kind and all that. She thinks of nothing but doing her best for me; but I don't want to be always at home hanging about, doing nothing. The motor works weren't bad, and I might have got on; but unluckily I caught my arm in a gear chain and got it hurt a bit; and, when it got right, I found my mother had resigned what she called the dangerous occupation for me, and some one else got the job." Directly we got home I sent a note round to Phyllis to tell her to bring her father to see me in the morning, and meantime to sleep sound and be happy, and to tell him to do the same. Then I sent Gerald to dress for our belated dinner, and I got the telephone down just as John rang me up as we had arranged. We had a long talk over the wire. I told him all about it in as few words as I could-that I hated his having been away, but I really did believe I had by some miracle escaped any very awful indiscretion. Somehow I was contriving to make all these young people do what I wanted while I hoped I was arranging Narramore's business affairs for him. I said John must come at once and congratulate me on my success, and also on my "discovery " of Gerald. He said he was coming next day, but now felt inclined to change his mind-things seemed to be at a critical point and he thought I had better get myself out of the tangle: he didn't see what my next step was going to be, and he didn't feel equal to such delicate negotiations. I said I didn't either, but I knew it was coming right. Narramore is such a gentleman, really, that one can rely absolutely on his good feeling in important things. He will never put Phyllis in a difficulty any more than he will give me away for having doubted her motive in disappearing that time. Yet somehow he will get Morton to work with him. I told John he must come, and he laughed and said he would: he wanted to see the letter I was going to write to my stepmother. And I laughed and said— "Bother the woman!" C. H. B. VOL. CLXXXIX.-NO. MCXLIII. D |