e child made a great to-do and called him, 'daddy.'"

The Laird smiled.

"Well, Mary, what would you expect the boy to do? Beat the child? To
my knowledge, he's been robbing the candy department of my general
store for years, and the tots of Port Agnew have been the
beneficiaries of his vandalism. He was born with a love of children.
And would you convict him on the prattle of an innocent child in
arms?"

"Certainly not, Mr. McKaye. I understand. Well then, on Saturday night
he sent over a complete outfit of clothing for the child, with a note
in the bundle--"

"Hm-m-m."

"And then somebody remembered that the child's name is Donald."

"How old is that child, Mrs. Daney?"

She considered.

"As I recall it, he'll be three years old in October."

"Since, you're a married woman, Mrs. Daney," The Laird began, with
old-fashioned deprecation for the blunt language he was about to
employ, "you'll admit that the child wasn't found behind one of old
Brent's cabbages. This is the year 1916."

But Mrs. Daney anticipated him.

"They've figured it out," she interrupted, "and Donald was home from
college for the holidays in 1912."

"So he was," The Laird replied complacently. "I'd forgotten. So that
alibi goes by the board. What else now? Does the child resemble my
son?"

"Nobody knows. Nan Brent doesn't receive visitors, and she hasn't been
up-town since the child was born."

"Is that all, Mary?"

"All I have heard so far."

Old Hector was tempted to tell her that, in his opinion, she had heard
altogether too much, but his regard for her husband caused him to
refrain.

"It's little enough, and yet it's a great deal," he answered. "You'll
be kind enough, Mary, not to carry word of this idle gossip to The
Dreamerie, I should regret that very much."

She flushed with the knowledge that, although he forgave her, still he
distrusted her and considered a warning necessary. However, she nodded
vigorous acceptance of his desire, and immediately he changed the
topic. While, for him, the quiet pleasure he had anticipated in the
visit had not materialized and he longed to leave at once, for Daney's
sake he remained for tea. When he departed, Mrs. Daney ran to her room
and found surcease from her distress in tears, while her husband sat
out on the veranda smoking one of The Laird's fine cigars, his
embarrassment considerably alleviated by the knowledge that his
imprudent wife had received a lesson that should last for