furnished with a
degree of quiet taste that defied criticism. The hand of an accomplished
housekeeper was everywhere made manifest, and everything had an air of
refinement and comfort. There was no ostentatious furniture; the chairs
were made to sit in, but not to put one's boots on. The cleanliness of
the house was terrible. One could see that no man had lived there since
the death of the late Pinkerton.

Our room was the same that had been occupied by Bessie since she was a
school-girl in short frocks. It was full of Bessie's "things," and it
was lucky that my effects occupied but very little space.

"This is jolly," I said, as I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled
a cigar from my pocket. "How soon will supper be ready, I wonder?"

There was no response. Bessie was unpacking,--and such an unpacking!

I lighted my cigar and threw myself back on the bed, wondering how they
had got on without me at the bank. Presently in came mother-in-law to
lend a hand at the unpacking. She did not see me at first, but the
fragrance of my Manila soon reached her nostrils, and she turned.

Such a look as she cast upon me! It almost took my breath away. But she
did not say a word. "The subject is beyond her powers of speech," I said
to myself. "Let us hope it will be so as a general thing."

However, it made me feel uncomfortable, so by and by I got off the bed
and went down stairs.

At the supper-table I tried to make myself as agreeable as possible. I
talked over the trip, and spoke of the people we had met at the
mountains; but I had most of the conversation to myself. Bessie did not
seem to be in a mood to chat; Mrs. Pinkerton devoted herself to impaling
me with her eyes once in a while; in a word, the mental atmosphere was
muggy.

"Desmond has travelled a great deal," I said. "I was speaking of French
politics the other day, and he gave me a long harangue on the situation.
He was in Paris several years, when he was a good deal younger than he
is now."

"Mr. Desmond is not a very old man," said Mrs. Pinkerton, "but he has
passed that age when men think they know all there is to be known."

I accepted this shot good-naturedly, and laughed.

"His niece is a remarkably bright girl," I continued. "Don't you think
so?"

"I cannot say I think it either bright or proper for a young lady to go
off alone on mountain excursions for half a day, and return with her
dress torn and her hands all scratched."

"Well, it was r