bject to refer to, but it seems necessary
that you should know. When Captain Stanwell came to this country he
was engaged to marry my sister. He came out here, presumably to make a
home for her. A pretty face among the emigrants took his fancy, and he
married shortly after he landed. So you may imagine I am not likely to
have any warm feeling for the rascal's son."

Monteith sat staring. He had come to represent Scotty's righteous
cause, to uphold him as the wronged, and here were the tables turned
upon him.

"All these years, Eleanor never dreamed that the child lived. Indeed,
I am not sure that she knew Stanwell had a child, and of course she
never guessed who little Bluebell's Scotty was. And I naturally didn't
see any reason for enlightening her. She nearly discovered it once,
the first time I saw the boy. But when he brought Bluebell here she
saw the resemblance at once--he's the image of his father--she asked
him his name, and it all came out, and you can imagine the scene. She
sent him off, and ordered the youngster never to speak to him again,
and the poor little monkey's been fairly sick over it. There couldn't
possibly be anything between them, but she liked him; they were chums.
Now don't you see how difficult it is for me to show him any kindness,
even if I wanted to? And I'm sure I don't owe his scoundrel father
much consideration, anyway."

The ambassador had nothing to say. Scotty's chances for redress were
very poor. He looked into the fire in deep disappointment. Monteith
was not a religious man, but at that moment he remembered vaguely a
passage from the Bible about the fathers having eaten sour grapes and
the children's teeth being set on edge.

But for all his talk, Captain Herbert had not settled the affair to his
own satisfaction. He was blustering up and down the room again, trying
to work off his Indignation against fate. He paused once more in front
of his visitor.

"I tell you what, Archie," he cried for the fifth time, "I hate the
whole business. It's been grinding at me for nearly fifteen years.
I've got a son of my own about that boy's age. His mother died when he
was a baby, and he's everything to me; and when I think that if I had
been taken too, he might have fared badly,--well--it's---- Look here,
what kind of ability has young Stanwell?"

Monteith gasped. "He's as bright as a steel trap; all brains."

"Well,"--the Captain was thoughtful--"what does he want?"