s. Harley quickly. "There is no doubt about
that."

"None," said Joan, looking full at the old lady with a confident smile
and a high chin. Would her grandmother never forget that escape from
the window?

"Why suggest the possibility of a break?" asked Mr. Ludlow, with a
touch of anger. "Really, my dear."

"A little joke, Cumberland, merely a little joke. Joan understands me,
I know."

"I think so," said Joan, smiling back. Not on her, whatever happened,
would she see the white feather. Some one had told the tale of her
kid's rush into the heart of things and her many evenings with Palgrave
and the others, when "Who cares?" was her motto.

The old lady went on, with infinite artfulness. "During the coming
summer, my love, you should look out for a pleasant little house in
some charming part of the country, furnish it, put men to work on the
garden, and have it all ready for the following spring."

"I know just the place," put in George. "Near a fine golf course and
country club with a view across the Hudson that takes your breath away."

"That might necessitate the constant attendance of a doctor," said Mrs.
Ludlow drily, "which would add considerably to the expenses. I would
advise the Shinnecock Hills, for instance, which are swept by sea
breezes and so reminiscent of Scotland. Martin would be within a
stone's throw of his favorite course, there, wouldn't he, Joan?"

"Yes, Grandmamma," said Joan, still with a high head and a placid
smile, although it came to her in a flash that her statement as to
where Martin was had not been believed. What if Grandmother knew where
Martin had gone? How absurd. How could she?

And then Mr. Ludlow broke in again, impatiently. The effect of the
champagne was wearing off. He hated feminine conversation in
drawing-rooms, anyhow. "Why go searching about for a house for the
child when she's got one already."

"Why, so I have," cried Joan. "Here. I'd forgotten all about it!"

Nothing could have suited the old lady so well. Her husband could not
have said anything more right if he had been prompted. "Of course you
have," she said, with a cackle of laughter. "I had forgotten it too.
Mr. Harley, can you believe our overlooking the fact that there is a
most excellent house in the family a gunshot from where we are all
sitting? It's natural enough for me, who have never met Joan's young
husband. But for you, my love, who spent such a romantic night there!
Where are your wits?"

J