pen, Miss Gardner stepped out, and there
entered a young man of twenty-two or three, good-natured confidence
in his manner, flawlessly dressed, with hands that were swathed in
bandages. He crossed limpingly to Mrs. De Peyster, who, her affection
now under control, stood regarding him with reproving and sternly
questioning eyes.

"Good-morning, mother,--glad to get back," he said, imprinting an
undaunted kiss upon her stately cheek.

Her reply was a continuance of her reproving look. The young man
turned to Mrs. De Peyster's faithful satellite.

"Hello, Olivetta. Hands out of commission. You'll have to shake my
elbow." And he held out his angled arm.

"Good-morning, Jack," responded Olivetta, in trepidation, hardly
daring to be gracious where Mrs. De Peyster had been cool.

Jack slipped an arm across Matilda's shoulders. "How are you, Matilda?
Glad to see you again."

"And I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Jack," returned Matilda, with a
look of stealthy affection.

"Please go, Matilda," said Mrs. De Peyster crisply. "And now, Jack,"
she continued with frigid dignity after Matilda had withdrawn, "I
trust that you will explain your absence, and your long silence."

"Certainly, mother," said Jack, pushing a slip-covered chair
before the fireplace--for an open wood fire burned here as in her
sitting-room above--and letting himself down into the chair slowly and
with extreme care and crossing his legs. "I got a sudden invitation
from Reggie Atwater to--"

"You know I do not approve of that young scape-grace!"

"I know you don't. I suppose that's one reason I didn't tell you
beforehand what I was up to."

"What have you been doing?"

"Reggie asked me to go on a long trip to try out his new car. It's
a hummer. Hundred-and-twenty horse-power--bloody-eyed, fire-spitting
devil--"

"Such cars are dangerous," severely commented Mrs. De Peyster, who
still kept to her horses and carriage as better maintaining old-family
distinction.

"I know. That's another reason I didn't tell you--especially since we
were planning a thousand-mile lark."

"What's the matter with your hands?" suddenly demanded Mrs. De
Peyster.

Jack gazed meditatively at the bandaged members.

"You were right about that car being dangerous, mother," said he.
"I'll confess the whole business. We were whizzing around a corner
coming into Yonkers this morning when the machine skidded. I did a
loop-the-loop and lit on my hands. But the skin of my pal