it. That is why I like you.
Good night!"

Somehow this remark pleased the captain greatly, but when he repeated it
to Serena, she did not seem pleased.

"I don't know what we shall do with that Azuba," she said. "She
mortifies me to death, and yet you won't let me get rid of her."

Her husband did not answer. In the matter of Azuba he was as determined
as ever. Amid the new life into which he had been thrown, head over
heels, the housekeeper was the one familiar substantial upon which he
could rely. He was used to her, her conversation, and her ways. As he
had said, she reminded him of home, his real home, the home from which
he was drifting further and further every day.

Next morning Serena was suffering from headache and had breakfast in her
room. Mr. Hungerford, also, did not descend to the morning meal. Daniel
wrote a long letter to Gertrude, describing the reception, after his own
fashion, but taking care to seem as cheerful as ever. He did not feel
cheerful, but there was nothing to be gained by troubling his daughter,
as he reasoned.

Mr. Hungerford remained through that day and the next day and the next.
At the end of that time he sent for his trunks and settled down to make
the Dott house his home, for "a short season," he said. This, of course,
was done only after much protest on his part and strenuous urging on the
part of Serena. Cousin Percy had taken her fancy at the very beginning
of their acquaintance, and his conduct since then had strengthened that
liking tremendously.

"Of course he can stay," she said in conversation with her husband.
"Why, Daniel, I don't know what I should do without him. His coming was
a special Providence, just as I told you. Just see how he helped at that
reception. It would never have been the success it was if it hadn't been
for him. And see how he's helped me since. He knows just what is right
and proper for people in our station to do; he's been in society all
his life. He's educated and he has helped me with my paper for the next
meeting of the Chapter so much already. There's no reason why he can't
be here; we've got plenty of room. And it will only be while he's on his
vacation, anyway."

Daniel rubbed his chin. "I know," he admitted; "so he says. But how long
a vacation is it goin' to be?"

"How do you suppose I know that? I haven't asked him, it isn't likely."

"No, I didn't suppose you had; but it seems kind of funny he hasn't
told you himself. What's it a