dly detained by an important meeting of a board of directors,
and might not be home until late. The butler made the announcement with
his usual impassive face, and Mrs. Lawrence directed dinner served
without further delay. When told to summon Master Cary, a servant
presently returned with the information that that young gentleman had
stepped out. "Slipped out," muttered Elmendorf between his teeth, for no
sooner did Cary discover that "dad" was not to be home than he
tobogganed down the baluster rail and shot forth into the surrounding
darkness, and was blocks away among cronies of his own before his
absence was discovered. "My brother is far too lax in his discipline
with Cary," said Mrs. Lawrence, in that profound disapprobation which
most people have of other people's methods, especially when their own
system, or lack of it, has proved conspicuous failure.

"Mr. Allison," said Elmendorf, diplomatically, "is somewhat wedded to
his theory, but that may not stand the test of practice. I had flattered
myself that the few months of my tuition were beginning to bear good
fruit, and that Cary was steadying, so to speak; but ever since the boy
began to get this West Point idea into his head I have found him
becoming more and more difficult to guide and control. Indeed, while I
do not wish to be considered as complaining, I feel bound to say, since
you have done me the honor to open the subject, that the influence of
Mr. Forrest upon both your nephew and your brother has been detrimental
to my usefulness in this household, so much so, in fact, as to prove at
times a serious embarrassment."

Now, Mrs. Lawrence had by no means "opened the subject," as intimated by
Mr. Elmendorf, but he was adroit in the manipulation of language. He
noted unerringly the cloud of dissent in her face, and knew it would
find verbal expression provided opportunity were afforded. To head off
disclaimer, therefore, he resorted to the time-honored feminine
expedient of talking down the other side and giving it no chance to be
heard,--an easy matter with him, for when Elmendorf got to talking
there was no telling when he would stop or what he might say. He was a
man who loved talk for talk's sake, who had an almost maternal fondness
for the sound of his own voice, and who petted and cajoled and patted
and moulded his phrases and sentences as an indulgent mother might humor
a child or a school-girl dress and adorn a doll. Before he had been two
months