emence, "do you want your house to get to be an empty d----d hole,
only fit to sleep in, like--like--Yes, Annette, I'm coming."

This conversation remained in Captain Dan's head for days. It disturbed
him greatly. Several times he made up his mind to speak to Serena
concerning it, but each time he changed his mind. He even thought of
writing a note to John Doane, urging the latter to run down to Scarford
for a few days, but he was fearful that to do this might be a mistake.
John would tell Gertrude, and she might not like it. Besides, Gertrude
had said that she expected John to come before very long. So Daniel did
nothing further than to remonstrate mildly concerning the acceptance of
Miss Canby's invitation. As he gave no reason for his objection, other
than the general one that he was tired and did not care about it, his
remonstrances were unheeded. He need not go unless he wished, said
Serena, she and Gertrude and Cousin Percy could go and he could stay at
home and rest. Gertrude said the same. When the evening came, the whole
family went, the captain included.

Annette had characterized the gifted Miss Canby as unusual, and the
social affairs given by her as unique. After the first half hour in the
"Bohemian" apartments, Daniel would have agreed with her, although his
opinion might have been more emphatically expressed. Miss Canby WAS
unusual, her apartments were unusual, and the "Bohemians" there gathered
most unusual of all.

Gertrude, strolling about in the company of a young gentleman--not
a Bohemian, but, like herself, merely a commonplace guest--found
her father seated in a corner, sheltered by a Japanese screen and
an imitation palm, and peering out at the assembled company with a
bewildered expression on his face.

"Well, Daddy," she asked, "are you having a good time?"

Daniel, who had not noticed her approach, started and looked up.

"Hey?" he asked. "A good time! My soul and body! Yes, I'm havin' a good
time. I haven't had a better one since I went to the sideshow at the
circus. Who's that long-legged critter with the lay-down collar and the
ribbon necktie? That one over there, talking to the woman with the hair
that don't match. What ails him?"

Gertrude looked and laughed. "That is Mr. Abercrombie, the poet," she
said. "Nothing ails him; he is a genius, that's all."

"Humph! That must be bad enough, then. What--"

He stopped. His daughter's escort had caught his attention. The young
man's face