d grasped his hand, with a real, though rather fussy, warmth.

"My dear sir," he cried, "I am honoured to see you again. This, my
dear," he addressed his wife, "is the young man I was telling you
about--in the street car," he explained.

"How very interesting," said Mrs. Bishop, with evidently no
comprehension and less interest.

Gerald Bishop cast an ironically amused glance across at Orde. The boy
looked up at him quickly, the sullenness for a moment gone from his
face.

Carroll Bishop appeared quite unconscious of an atmosphere which seemed
to Orde strained, but sank into her place at the table and unfolded
her napkin. The silent butler drew forward a chair for Orde, and stood
looking impassively in Mrs. Bishop's direction.

"You will have some breakfast with us?" she inquired. "No? A cup of
coffee, at least?"

She began to manipulate the coffee pot, without paying the slightest
attention to Orde's disclaimer. The general puffed out his cheeks, and
coughed a bit in embarrassment.

"A good cup of coffee is never amiss to an old campaigner," he said to
Orde. "It's as good as a full meal in a pinch. I remember when I was a
major in the Eleventh, down near the City of Mexico, in '48, the time
Hardy's command was so nearly wiped out by that viaduct--" He half
turned toward Orde, his face lighting up, his fingers reaching for the
fork with which, after the custom of old soldiers, to trace the chart of
his reminiscences.

Mrs. Bishop rattled her cup and saucer with an uncontrollably nervous
jerk of her slender body. For some moments she had awaited a chance to
get the general's attention. "Spare us, father," she said brusquely.
"Will you have another cup of coffee?"

The old gentleman, arrested in mid-career, swallowed, looked a trifle
bewildered, but subsided meekly.

"No, thank you, my dear," said he, and went furiously at his breakfast.

Orde, overwhelmed by embarrassment, discovered that none of the others
had paid the incident the slightest attention. Only on the lips of
Gerald Bishop he surprised a fine, detached smile.

At this moment the butler entered bearing the mail. Mrs. Bishop tore
hers open rapidly, dropping the mangled envelopes at her side. The
contents of one seemed to vex her.

"Oh!" she cried aloud. "That miserable Marie! She promised me to have it
done to-day, and now she puts it off until Monday. It's too provoking!"
She turned to Orde for sympathy. "Do you know ANYTHING more aggravating