herwise, upon the front porch
of Matocton. Anne had disappeared somewhere. Musgrave subsequently
discovered her in one of the drawing-rooms, puzzling over a number of
papers which her maid had evidently just brought to her.

Mrs. Charteris looked up with a puckered brow. "Rudolph," said she,
"haven't you an account at the Occidental Bank?"

"Hardly an account, dear lady,--merely a deposit large enough to
entitle me to receive monthly notices that I have overdrawn it."

"Why, then, of course, you have a cheque-book. Horrible things, aren't
they?--such a nuisance remembering to fill out those little stubs. Of
course, I forgot to bring mine with me--I always do; and equally, of
course, a vexatious debt turns up and finds me without an Occidental
Bank cheque to my name."

Musgrave was amused. "That," said he, "is easily remedied. I will get
you one; though even if--Ah, well, what is the good of trying to teach
you adorable women anything about business! You shall have your
indispensable blank form in three minutes."

He returned in rather less than that time, with the cheque. Anne was
alone now. She was gowned in some dull, soft, yellow stuff, and sat by a
small, marble-topped table, twiddling a fountain-pen.

"You mustn't sneer at my business methods, Rudolph," she said, pouting a
little as she filled out the cheque. "It isn't polite, sir, in the first
place, and, in the second, I am really very methodical. Of course, I am
always losing my cheque-book, and drawing cheques and forgetting to
enter them, and I usually put down the same deposit two or three
times--all women do that; but, otherwise, I am really very careful. I
manage all the accounts; I can't expect Jack to do that, you know." Mrs.
Charteris signed her name with a flourish, and nodded at the colonel
wisely. "Dear infant, but he is quite too horribly unpractical. Do you
know this bill has been due--oh, for months--and he forgot it entirely
until this evening. Fortunately, he can settle it to-morrow; those
disagreeable publishers of his have telegraphed for him to come to New
York at once, you know. Otherwise--dear, dear! but marrying a genius is
absolutely ruinous to one's credit, isn't it, Rudolph? The tradespeople
will refuse to trust us soon."

Involuntarily, Musgrave had seen the cheque. It was for a considerable
amount, and it was made out to John Charteris.

"Beyond doubt," said Musgrave, in his soul, "Jack is colossal! He is
actually drawing on h