nce. Frances regarded me oddly.

"I thought--I understood that your name was Kent, Mr. Knowles," she
said.

"It is."

"Then why does Miss Cahoon always--"

Hephzy interrupted. "Oh, I always call him Hosy," she explained. "It's a
kind of pet name of mine. It's short for Hosea. His whole name is Hosea
Kent Knowles, but 'most everybody but me does call him Kent. I don't
think he likes Hosea very well."

Our companion looked very much as if she did not wonder at my dislike.
Her eyes twinkled.

"Hosea," she repeated. "That is an odd name. The original Hosea was a
prophet, wasn't he? Are you a prophet, Mr. Knowles?"

"Far from it," I answered, with decision. If I had been a prophet I
should have been forewarned and, consequently, forearmed.

She smiled and against my will I was forced to admit that her smile was
attractive; she was prettier than ever when she smiled.

"I remember now," she said; "all Americans have Scriptural names. I have
read about them in books."

"Hosy writes books," said Hephzy, proudly. "That's his profession; he's
an author."

"Oh, really, is he! How interesting!"

"Yes, he is. He has written ever so many books; haven't you, Hosy."

I didn't answer. My self and my "profession" were the last subjects I
cared to discuss. The young lady's smile broadened.

"And where do you write your books, Mr. Knowles?" she asked.
"In--er--Bayport?"

"Yes," I answered, shortly. "Hephzy, Miss Morley will have another cup
of tea, I think."

"Oh, no, thank you. But tell me about your books, Mr. Knowles. Are they
stories of Bayport?"

"No indeed!" Hephzy would do my talking for me, and I could not order
her to be quiet. "No indeed!" she declared. "He writes about lords and
ladies and counts and such. He hardly ever writes about everyday people
like the ones in Bayport. You would like his books, Frances. You would
enjoy readin' 'em, I know."

"I am sure I should. They must be delightful. I do hope you brought some
with you, Mr. Knowles."

"He didn't, but I did. I'll lend you some, Frances. I'll lend you 'The
Queen's Amulet.' That's a splendid story."

"I am sure it must be. So you write about queens, too, Mr. Knowles. I
thought Americans scorned royalty. And what is his queen's name, Miss
Cahoon? Is it Scriptural?"

"Oh, no indeed! Besides, all Americans' names aren't out of the Bible,
any more than the names in England are. That man who wanted to let us
his house in Copperhead--no, Leatherhead--