st to one another: the important
Caspian in his pluperfect clothes, looking insignificant; the
unimportant Storm in his junk-shop get-up, looking extraordinarily
significant. _He_, an ex-hotel-keeper! It was a blow to mystery. Yet I
didn't lose interest. Somehow I felt more.

"I shouldn't know how to keep a hotel, should I?" faltered Patsey, in
her childlike voice.

"You'd have to get expert assistance," said the S. M.

"I asked Mr. Storm if he would be free to give advice, and--and perhaps
do _more_," broke in Mrs. Shuster. "I've persuaded him to reconsider his
first decision. He's now promised to begin over here as my secretary
till he gets something better to do. And, dear Miss Patty, I'll be just
_delighted_ to come as your first guest, to bring you _luck_, if you
approve of the idea. I haven't any home. I intended to live at the
Waldorf and look around. But from what I hear, nobody need ever look
farther than Kidd's Pines, if things there are managed the right way."

"I don't think Miss Moore will need to turn her wonderful old historic
place into an inn," said Ed Caspian acidly. "I, too, have a plan,
haven't I, Miss Moore? And with all respect to our friend Mrs. Shuster,
it's just as practical and a good deal pleasanter than hers."

"Not mine, Eddy: Mr. Storm's," the lady hastened to disclaim
responsibility at the first buffet.

"Ah, Mr. Storm's," amended Eddy, trying to look down on the S. M. (Have
you ever seen a pet fox terrier or a dachshund with a bone, try to look
down on a wandering collie unprovided with bone? Well!...)

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Caspian," I ventured, "but I don't see how your
plan is quite as 'practical' as the other. Interest has to be paid on a
mortgage, and if it can't be paid, why it's foreclosed, both in real
life and Irish melodramas where the lovely heroine has the most
agonizing alternatives offered her. Suppose, anyhow, we just let Mr.
Storm tell us--since he's an expert--what he means by the 'right way' of
turning Kidd's Pines into a hotel. Maybe he means something very
special."

"I do," replied the S. M. "I mean what is called an 'exclusive'
hotel--especially exclusive in its prices. If people think it difficult
to get in, they'll all fight to do so." He looked at Pat. "I hope you
won't think I'm pushing," he said, "I remember Kidd's Pines when I was a
boy. I thought it was the most beautiful place I ever saw. I've seen a
good many since then; but I still think the same