f Serena's. The captain dreaded telling his wife what,
in the heat of his anger, he had done. But his dread was needless.
Serena's mind was too much occupied with politics and political ambition
to dwell upon less important matters.

"I suppose it is all right," she said. "If he was a thief he should be
discharged, of course. No doubt you did right, Daniel, but we shall miss
him dreadfully. I don't know where we can get another butler like him."

Daniel gasped. "Good land of love!" he cried; "we don't WANT another
like him, do we! I should hope we didn't."

"I don't mean another thief. Oh, dear me! Why do you pick me up in that
way? One would think you took a delight in worrying me all you could.
Get me a cup of tea. I want it right away. My nerves are all unstrung.
Gertie--"

But Gertie had gone to her room; she spent the greater part of her time
there now. Her mother sighed.

"She's gone," she declared. "Just when I need her most, of course.
I can't see what has got into her for the last few days. She was so
interested in the Chapter. Even more than I, I began to think. And yet,
at the committee meeting this afternoon--the most important meeting
we've had; when we were counting the votes which we can be sure of and
those that are doubtful, she scarcely said a word. Just sat there and
moped. I don't know what is the matter with her."

Daniel nodded. "I think I do," he said. "It's John. Somethin's the
matter between her and John. If he had only stayed here! If he would
only come back!"

"Then for mercy sakes get him back! Telegraph him. You said you were
going to."

Captain Dan rose. "I will," he declared. "I'll do it right now, this
minute. Not till I see you to your tea, Serena," he added, hastily.
"I'll tell Zuba about that first, of course."

He sent the telegram within the hour. It was an inquiry concerning Mr.
Doane's whereabouts, his employer's health, how he was getting on,
and when he--John--was to return to Scarford. The answer arrived, via
telephone, about eight that evening. It was a surprising answer.

"Doane gone to San Francisco on business of the firm," it said. "Left at
midnight yesterday."

It was signed by the senior partner. Serena had gone out, of course; she
was scarcely ever in now, but Gertrude, having finished dinner, was in
her room as usual. Her father hurried up the stairs.

"Gertie," he cried, entering without knocking, "Gertie, what do you
suppose I've just found out? It's th