t never used to be."

"It isn't now, and you know it. But, as I say, I am very busy. Business
first, pleasure afterwards."

"Humph! I'm glad I'm a pleasure, even if it's the kind that comes after
everything else. What have you and your ma been talkin' about upstairs
for the last hour?"

"A great many things--society and the Chapter and--oh, all sorts."

"Want to know! What were you and Azuba talkin' about?"

"About household matters and the people IN the house."

"People in the house! What people?"

"You and mother and Mr. Hun--that is, Cousin Percy--and Hapgood."

"That's all there is, except yourself. What was you and Hapgood havin' a
confab on; more household matters?"

"Yes, in a way. Daddy, have Mr. Hungerford and Hapgood known each other
long?"

"I guess so. He was Aunt Laviny's butler for a good many years, and
Percy was a regular visitor there. What made you ask that?"

"Feminine curiosity, probably. Has our cousin many friends here in
Scarford?"

"Why, he seems to know 'most everybody; everybody that's in what he and
your mother call society, that is."

"But has he any intimate friends? Have you met any of them?"

"I met one once. He seemed to be pretty intimate. Anyhow, they called
each other by their first names. Ho! ho! that whole thing was kind of
funny. I never wrote you about that, did I?"

He told of the meeting in the Rathskeller. Gertrude evinced much
interest.

"What was this friend's name?" she asked.

"'Monty,' that's all I heard. Queer name, ain't it--isn't it, I
mean. But it ain't any queerer than 'Tacks'; that's what he called
Hungerford."

"Has this 'Monty' called here? Has he been here at the house?"

"No-o, no, he hasn't. I caught a glimpse of him at the club, that time
when I went there with Barney--Godfreys! it's a good thing Serena didn't
hear me say that--with Phelps Black, I mean."

"Daddy, sometime when you have an opportunity, ask Mr. Black about this
Monty, will you?"

"Sartin, if you want me to. But what do you care about Percy
Hungerford's friends?"

"I don't--about his friends."

With which enigmatical remark she moved away to join Cousin Percy, who
had just entered the room.

During the next three days, Daniel's feeling that his daughter was
neglecting him grew stronger than ever. Her "business," whatever it
might be, occupied practically all her time, and the captain and she
were scarcely ever alone. He was disappointed. He had regarded her
coming