arley stared in matronly reproof.

"You don't appear over grateful to your benefactor."

"No;" and Richard shook his head. "I'm quite the churl, I know; but I
can't help it."

Richard found a chance to say to Dorothy,

"I see that you love flowers."

This was when Dorothy had taken refuge among those blossoms.

"I worship flowers," returned Dorothy.

"Now I don't wonder," exclaimed Richard. "You and they have so much in
common."

Mrs. Hanway-Harley was for the moment preoccupied with thoughts of Mr.
Gwynn, and plans for the small Senate dinner at which that austere
gentleman would find himself in the place of honor. However, she caught
some flash of Richard's remark. For the fraction of an instant it bred a
doubt of his dullness. What if he should come philandering after
Dorothy? Mrs. Hanway-Harley's feathers began to rise. No beggar fed by
charity need hope for her daughter's hand; she was firm-set as to that.
Perhaps Mr. Gwynn intended to make him rich by his will. At this Mrs.
Hanway-Harley's feathers showed less excitement. Mr. Gwynn should be
sounded on the subject of bequests. Why not put the question to Mr.
Storms? It would at least lead to the development of that equivocal
gentleman's expectations.

"Has Mr. Gwynn any family in England?" asked Mrs. Hanway-Harley.

"A nephew or two, I believe; possibly a brother."

"But he will make you his heir."

"Me?" Richard gave a negative shake of the head. "The old fellow
wouldn't leave me a shilling. Why should he? Nor would I accept it if he
did." Richard's sidelong look at Mrs. Hanway-Harley was full of
amusement. "No, the old rogue hates me, if he would but tell the
truth--which he won't--and if it were worth my while and compatible with
my self-respect, I've no doubt I'd hate him."

This sentiment was delivered with the blase air of weariness worn out,
that should belong with him who has seen and heard and known a world's
multitude; which manner is everywhere recognized as the very flower of
good breeding.

Mrs. Hanway-Harley sat tongue-tied with astonishment. In the end she
recalled herself. Mrs. Hanway-Harley scented nothing perilous in the
situation. In any event, Dorothy would wed whomsoever she decreed; Mrs.
Hanway-Harley was deservedly certain of that. While this came to her
mind, Richard the enterprising went laying plans for the daily
desolation of an entire greenhouse.

"Dorothy," observed Mrs. Hanway-Harley, after Richard had gone his way,