ghtfully:

"What have you decided to do about it, Roscoe?"

"I haven't decided at all. What do you think, Mother?"

"It seems to me that I shouldn't sell, at least until I knew his reason
for wanting to buy. It would be different if we needed the money, but,
of course, we don't."

"Of course," I said, hastily. "But why not sell? We don't use the land."

"No. But the Denboro people need that Lane. They use it a great deal.
If it were closed it would put many of them to a great inconvenience,
particularly those who get their living alongshore. Every one in Denboro
has been so kind to us. I feel that we owe them a debt we never can
repay."

"No one could help being kind to you, Mother. Oh! I have another
piece of news. Did you know that our new neighbors, the Coltons, have
arrived?"

"Yes. Dorinda told me. Have you met any of them?"

"No."

"Dorinda says Mrs. Colton is an invalid. Poor woman! it must be hard
to be ill when one has so much to enjoy. Dorinda says they have a very
pretty daughter."

I made no comment. I was not interested in pretty daughters, just then.
The memory of the girl in the auto was too fresh in my mind.

"Did you go to the post-office, Roscoe?" asked Mother. "I suppose there
were no letters. There seldom are."

Then I remembered the letter in my pocket. I had forgotten it
altogether.

"Why, yes, there was a letter, a letter for me. I haven't read it yet."

I took the envelope from my pocket and drew out the enclosure. The
latter was a note, very brief and very much to the point. I read it.

"Well, by George!" I exclaimed, angrily.

"What is it, Roscoe?"

"It appears to be a summons from what Captain Jed called the King of New
York. A summons to appear at court."

"At court?"

"Oh, not the criminal court. Merely the palace of his Majesty. Just
listen."

This was the letter:

Roscoe Paine, Esq.

Dear Sir:

I should like to see you at my house this--Thursday--forenoon, on a
matter of business. I shall expect you at any time after ten in the
morning.

Yours truly,

JAMES W. COLTON.

"From Mr. Colton!" exclaimed Mother. "Why! what can he want of you?"

"I don't know," I answered. "And I don't particularly care."

"Roscoe!"

"Mother, did you ever hear such a cool, nervy proposition in your life?
He wants to see me and he orders me to come to him. Why doesn't he come
to me?"

"I suppose he didn't think of it. He is a big man in New York and he has
been accust