hat no
one was present to take the shock with herself and the doctor.

The maid at the door, who knew nothing of the wild reputation of the
Haneys, guided them up-stairs to their respective dressing-rooms, and
helped to remove their wraps so expeditiously that they were on their
way back to the first floor before any other guests arrived. Bertha was
delighted but not awed by the fine room into which they were ushered,
for was not her own house larger and more splendid? She had grown
accustomed to big things--it was the tasteful beauty of the room that
moved her.

In the side of the room a big plain brick fireplace was filled with a
crackling fire, and in the light of it stood her host and hostess.
Bertha was glad to find them alone--she had expected to face a room full
of people. She was not specially attracted to Dr. Brent, and remained so
coldly restrained that he was quite baffled and turned away to the
Captain, who sought the fire, saying: "This looks good. I feel the cold
now--I don't know why I should."

This opened the way to a very confidential talk on wounds and diet.

Bertha's new gown of pale blue made her look very young and very sweet,
and the eager guests were sadly disappointed in her--that is to say, the
ladies were; the men seemed quite content with her as she was. They took
the "biscuit-shooter" description to be a piece of fooling on Mrs.
Brent's part, and as they had no time after dinner to get the Captain
started they remained quite convinced that he, too, had been maligned in
their hostess's description.

As a result, Mrs. Brent and her other guests were forced to do the
talking, for Bertha had not only warned Mart against reminiscence, but
had determined to keep a tight hold on her own tongue; and though she
listened with the alertness of a bird, she answered only in curt phrase,
making "yes" and "no" do their full duty. She perceived that the people
round her were of intellectual companionship to the Crego and Congdon
circles, and these young men, so easy and graceful of manner, reminded
her of Ben. None of them were entirely strange to her now, and yet she
dimly apprehended something uncomplimentary veiled beneath their polite
regard. She did not entirely trust any of them--not even her host.
Indeed, she liked Mrs. Brent less than at their first meeting in the
hotel.

The dinner was rather hurried, and they would have been late had it not
been for Haney's new auto-car, which carried six,