, I am
sure the affair is strictly correct." His voice softened, became nobly
apologetic. "No harm has been meant, and if any offense has been felt,
I assure you of my deepest regrets."

"See here, who the devil are you?" demanded Jack.

Mr. Pyecroft turned to Matilda.

"Matilda, my dear, will you kindly tell young Mr. De Peyster who I
am."

Matilda seemed about to choke. "He's--he's my--my brother."

"Your brother!" exclaimed Jack, "I didn't know you had a brother. You
never spoke of one."

"Which was entirely natural," said Mr. Pyecroft, with an air of pious
remorse. "Matilda has been ashamed to speak of me. To be utterly
frank--and it is meet that one who has been what I have been should be
humble and ready to confess--for many years I was the black sheep of
the family, my name unmentioned. But sometime since I was snatched a
brand from the burning; I have remained silent about myself until I
could give to my family, which had properly disowned me, a long record
to prove my reformation. I am now striving by my devotion to make some
amends for my previous shortcomings."

Jack stared incomprehensibly at this unexpected clerical brother of
Matilda's, with his unquenchable volubility. Mr. Pyecroft gazed back
with appropriate humility, yet with a lofty self-respect.

Jack turned away with a shrug, and pointed at the dark figure of Mrs.
De Peyster.

"And who is that, Matilda?"

"That, sir," put in Mr. Pyecroft quickly, easily, to forestall any
blunder by the hapless Matilda--and deftly interposing himself between
Jack and Mrs. De Peyster, "that is our sister."

"The one who lives in Syracuse?"

"Yes; and she is indisposed," said Mr. Pyecroft. "Our sister Angelica
Simpson Jones," he elaborated. "Matilda is the eldest, I am the
youngest; there are just us three children."

"And might I ask, Matilda, without intending discourtesy," said Jack,
eyeing Mr. Pyecroft with disfavor, "how long your brother and sister
intend to remain?"

"Matilda invited us for the summer," said Mr. Pyecroft apologetically.

"For the summer!" repeated Jack in dismay. Then he spoke to Matilda,
caustically: "I suppose it's all right, Matilda, but has it been your
fixed custom, when we've been away for the summer, to fill the house
with your family?"

"Please, Mr. Jack, please," imploringly began Matilda, and could utter
nothing further.

"Great God!" Jack burst out in exasperation. "Not that I'd object
ordinarily to your relativ