k in the well-fitting suit of clothes, the expensive tie, the
gold watch chain.

"Humph!" grunted Captain Zelotes. "Well, your grandma and I are glad
to have you with us. Let me see, Albert--that's your right name, ain't
it--Albert?"

Something in his grandfather's looks or tone aroused a curious feeling
in the youth. It was not a feeling of antagonism, exactly, but more of
defiance, of obstinacy. He felt as if this big man, regarding him so
keenly from under the heavy brows, was looking for faults, was expecting
to find something wrong, might almost be disappointed if he did not find
it. He met the gaze for a moment, the color rising to his cheeks.

"My name," he said deliberately, "is Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza."

Mrs. Snow uttered a little exclamation. "Oh!" she ejaculated. And then
added: "Why--why, I thought--we--we understood 'twas 'Albert.' We didn't
know there was--we didn't know there was any more to it. What did you
say it was?"

Her grandson squared his shoulders. "Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza,"
he repeated. "My father"--there was pride in his voice now--"my father's
name was Miguel Carlos. Of course you knew that."

He spoke as if all creation must have known it. Mrs. Snow looked
helplessly at her husband. Captain Zelotes rubbed his chin.

"We--ll," he drawled dryly, "I guess likely we'll get along with
'Albert' for a spell. I cal'late 'twill come more handy to us Cape
folks. We're kind of plain and everyday 'round here. Sapper's ready,
ain't it, Mother? Al must be hungry. I'm plaguey sure _I_ am."

"But, Zelotes, maybe he'd like to go up to his bedroom first. He's been
ridin' a long ways in the cars and maybe he'd like to wash up or change
his clothes?"

"Change his clothes! Lord sakes, Olive, what would he want to change his
clothes this time of night for? You don't want to change your clothes,
do you, boy?"

"No, sir, I guess not."

"Sartin sure you don't. Want to wash? There's a basin and soap and towel
right out there in the kitchen."

He pointed to the kitchen door. At that moment the door was partially
opened and a brisk feminine voice from behind it inquired: "How about
eatin'? Are you all ready in there?"

It was Captain Snow who answered.

"You bet we are, Rachel!" he declared. "All ready and then some. Trot
her out. Sit down, Mother. Sit down, Al. Now then, Rachel, all aboard."

Rachel, it appeared, was the owner of the brisk feminine voice just
mentioned. She was brisk he