find it inconvenient
to call on you for fear of meeting Mrs. Haney."

"Oh, rats!"

"Absurd, isn't it? I'm glad you put on that dress. You don't look tired
now; your cheeks are blazing."

"With wrath--not health."

"At me?"

"Oh no. At these people who assume to dictate whom we shall know."

"They don't do that, dear; they only think you're paying too much for
Ben's new office. But come down to dinner; we'll fight this out later."

Congdon was outspoken in his admiration. "By the Lord, the climate is
getting in its work! Why, Alice, you're radiant. You're ten years
younger to-night!"

"That's because I'm angry."

"What about?"

"Your townspeople. Lee has made me feel as if I were the club-bar topic
to-night."

Congdon became solemn--grim as a brazen image. "Mrs. Congdon, you've
been making some of your tactful remarks."

"I have not. I've been talking straight from the shoulder, as I advise
you to do."

He capitulated. "After the turkey. Come on, Ben, we're in for a lecture
by the Professor-Doctor Lee Congdon."

Under the influence of his humor they took seats about the pretty,
candle-lit table as gay a group as the city held--apparently; for Alice
was of that temperament which responds quickly and buoyantly to humor,
and Frank Congdon never took anything quite seriously--except his
portrait-painting. He could do a cake-walk with any one, but he would
not discuss art with the unsympathetic. He always had a new story to
tell of his amazing experience. Something was always happening to him.
Other men come and go up and down the whole earth without an adventure,
but no sooner does Frank Congdon slip out of the door than the
fates--generally the humorous ones--pounce upon him. Drunken women claim
him for a son. Sheriffs arrest him in the mountains and transport him
long distances, only to find him the wrong man. Confused Swedish mothers
give him babies to hold in the cars, and rush out just in time to get
left. And these tales lose nothing in his recount of them.

In the present instance he took up half the dinner-hour with a
description of his latest mishap. A neighbor's cook had suddenly gone
mad, and had charged him with putting a spell over her. "Somebody calls
me up on the 'phone this morning: 'Is this Frank Congdon?'... 'Yes.' ...
'Hello, Frank, this is Henry. What you been doing to my cook?' ... 'What
does she say I have?' ... 'Says you've hypnotized her--put a spell over
her.' ... 'I pass.' ... '