Then the door was opened, and Garrison beheld a squint-eyed,
thin-lipped old man, who scowled upon him and remained there, barring
his way.

"Good evening--is my wife at home--Mrs. Fairfax?" said Garrison,
stepping in. "I wired her----"

"Jerold!" cried a voice, as the girl in the party-house had done. But
this was Dorothy, half-way down the stairs, running toward him eagerly,
and dressed in most exquisite taste.

Briskly stepping forward, ready with the role he had rehearsed, he
caught her in his arms as she came to the bottom of the stairs, and she
kissed him like a sweet young wife, obeying the impulse of her nature.

"Oh, Jerold, I'm so glad!" she said. "I don't see why you have to go
away at nine!"

She was radiant with blushes.

He recognized a cue.

"And how's the dearest little girl in all the world?" he said, handing
her the box of confections. "I didn't think I'd be able to make it,
till I wired. While this bit of important business lasts we must do
the best we can."

He had thrown his arm about her carelessly. She moved away with a
natural gesture towards the man who had opened the door.

"Oh, Jerold, this is my Uncle Sykey--Mr. Robinson," she said. "He and
Aunt Jill have come to pay me a visit. We must all go upstairs to the
parlor."

She was pale with excitement, but her acting was perfect.

Garrison turned to the narrow-eyed old man, who was scowling darkly
upon him.

"I'm delighted to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

"Um! Thank you," said Robinson, refusing his hand. "Extraordinary
honeymoon you're giving my niece, Mr. Fairfax."

His manner nettled Garrison, who could not possibly have gauged the
depth of the old man's dislike, even hatred, conceived against him
simply as Dorothy's husband.

A greeting so utterly uncordial made unlooked-for demands upon his wits.

"The present arrangement will not endure very long," he said
significantly. "In the meantime, if Dorothy is satisfied there seems
to be no occasion for anyone else to feel distressed."

"If that's intended as a fling at me----" started Robinson, but Dorothy
interrupted.

"Please come upstairs," she said, laying her hand for a moment on
Garrison's shoulder; and then she ran up lightly, looking back with all
the smiles of perfect art.

Garrison read it as an invitation to a private confidence, much needed
to put him properly on guard. He bounded up as if in hot pursuit,
leaving her uncle down there by