othes; disgraceful--puf-puf-perfectly
disgraceful, that's whasmasser. Want t' see Will. Anybody here seen
Will? Don' tell me Will's gone home s' early; mos' unfashion'ble; mos'
disgracefully unfashion'ble!"

Jack Holton had come back, and this was the manner of his coming. To
most of those who saw him that night tipsily planted against the door of
the old Montgomery house, he was an entire stranger, so long had been
his exile; but to Amzi, to Tom Kirkwood, to Rose and Nan Bartlett there
came at the instant of identification a thronging weight of memories.
Some one had called William Holton--he was discussing local business
prospects with Paul Fosdick--and the crowd about the drawing-room door
made way for him. His nephew Charles was at his elbow.

"Bring my coat and hat to the back door, Charlie, and see that your Aunt
Nellie gets home," he said; and people spoke admiringly afterward of the
composure with which he met the situation.

Amzi was advancing toward the uninvited guest and William turned to him.

"This is unpardonable, Mr. Montgomery, but I want you to know that I
couldn't have foreseen it. I am very sorry. Good-night!"

Preceded by Amzi, William led his brother, not without difficulty,
through the hall to the dining-room and into the kitchen, where Charles
joined him in a moment by way of the back stairs.

"It's Uncle Jack, is it?" Charles asked, looking at the tall figure with
a curiosity that was unfeigned.

"M' dear boy, I s'pose 's possible I'm your lon--lon--long los' uncle;
but I haven't zonner--haven't zonner your acquaintance. Want to see
Will. Got prodigal on zands, Will has. Seems t'ave come back mos'
'no--mos' 'nopportune 'casion. All right, ole man: jus' give me y' arm
and I get 'long mos' com-for-ble, mos' comfort-_a_-ble," he ended with a
leer of triumph at having achieved the vowel.

Charles helped him down the steps to the walk and then returned to the
house. In his unfamiliarity with its arrangements, he opened by mistake
the door that led to a little den where Amzi liked to read and smoke.
There quite alone stood Tom Kirkwood, his hands in his pockets, staring
into the coal-fire of the grate. Charles muttered an apology and hastily
closed the door.

Through the house rang the strains of a waltz, and the dance went on.

CHAPTER XI

BROTHERS

William Holton spoke the truth to Amzi when he said that he had had no
warning of his brother's return. William, with all his appar