't."

"Well, I don't suppose it is. But--well, there was somethin' else. It
seemed to me that afternoon at the Rathskeller that he and that chum of
his had been drinkin'."

"Drinking? Do you mean that they were intoxicated?"

"No, not exactly that; but they had a couple of cocktails while I was
there."

"Is that all? Oh, dear me! Daniel, you are SO old-fashioned. Your ideas
don't change a single mite. In Trumet a cocktail is a dreadful thing;
but here it isn't. Why, everybody drinks a cocktail before dinner. The
Blacks always have them. There were cocktails at that dinner at their
house."

"I know there was, but I didn't see you drinkin' yours, Serena."

His wife hesitated. "No," she admitted rather reluctantly, "I didn't.
I've been temperance all my life and somehow I couldn't bring myself
to do it. I hope Annette didn't think it was bad manners, but I just
couldn't somehow. Perhaps I ought to have tried--"

"Tried! My soul and body, Serena! Don't talk that way. If I see you
startin' in to drink cocktails I shall begin to think the world's comin'
to an end. SOMETHIN' will come to an end right then and there, I'll
tell you that! The first cocktail you drink will be the signal for me
to clear decks for action. There's some things I WON'T stand, and that's
one of 'em!"

"There, there! Don't get excited! I shan't begin at my time of life. But
I shan't be narrow, either. I don't want you to be. If all you've got
against Cousin Percy is that he drinks a cocktail once in a while I
think you'd better get over it as soon as you can. He does help me,
Daniel, in my Chapter work and all the rest of it, and I'd like to have
him stay here at present. Now won't you be nice and obliging, same as
you usually are, and let him stay, for my sake? You will, won't you,
dear?"

Captain Dan said that he would, and yet he said it with considerable
inward reluctance. There was no real reason why he should have
distrusted Percy Hungerford. At least he could think of none in
particular. His distrust was based upon generalities and a knowledge of
human nature acquired during his years of knocking about among men.
His wife's words made an impression. If what she said was true, his
conscience told him that he should be kind and generous in his attitude
toward the literary person. But--well, the "but" was still there.

It was his intention to seek out Fenholtz and ask a few questions
concerning Cousin Percy, but the opportunity did not o