t be so very disagreeable--now. I have no doubt it
was--well, not comfortable for you at first. Steve and Caroline were
quite impossible--really quite furious. Your sudden appearance in the
capacity of guardian was too much for them. They were sure you must be
a perfect ogre, Captain. I had to use all my eloquence to convince them
they would not be devoured alive. But now--what a change! Why, already
Caroline accepts you as--well, almost like an old friend, like myself.
In the last few days this change in her attitude is quite marked. What
_have_ you done? Are you a wizard? Do tell me!"

This appeal, delivered with eloquence and most engaging play of brow and
eye, should have been irresistible. Unfortunately the captain did not
appear to have heard it. Leaning forward, his hands clasped between his
knees, he was gazing into the fire. And when he spoke, it was as if he
were thinking aloud.

"I s'pose 'tis a sort of disease, this duty business," he mused. "And
most diseases ain't cheerful visitations. Still a feller ought not to
growl about it in public. I always did hate for a man to be goin' about
forever complainin' of his sufferin's--whether they was from duty or
rheumatiz."

Mrs. Dunn's lips snapped shut. She pressed them together impatiently.
Evidently her questions, and their diplomatic prelude, had been
unheard and wasted. However, she did not intend to be sidetracked or
discouraged.

"One should not prate of one's duty, of course," she agreed. "Not that
you do--far from it. But, as I was saying, our dear Caroline has--"

"Thank you, ma'am. I hope I don't groan too loud. Do you know, I believe
climate has a bearin' on duty, same as it has on rheumatics. I s'pose
you city folks"--and there was almost contempt in the words--"are sort
of Christian Science, and figger it's an 'error'--hey? Somethin' to be
forgot."

The lady resented the interruption, and the contempt nettled her.

"Not at all!" she retorted. "We city dwellers have our duties, also."

"Is that a fact? I want to know!"

"Certainly it is a fact," tartly. "I have my duties and many of them."

"Um! So? Well, I s'pose you do feel you must dress just so, and live
just so, and do just such and such things. If you call those duties,
why--"

"I do. What else are they, pray?"

Mrs. Dunn was finding it difficult to keep her temper. To be catechised
in this contemptuously lofty manner by one to whom she considered
herself so immensely superior, was