ut he's a little queer and he's always been
a little sickly. Edward doesn't know how to handle him, and the boy's
ma--well, she's one of those Terre Haute Bartlows, and those people
never would stay put. Edward's made too much money for his wife's good,
and the United States ain't big enough for her and the girls. But that
boy got tired o' gallivanting around over there, and he's back here on
Edward's hands. The boy's gaits are too much for Edward. He says you and
Allen get on well together. I met him in the bank to-day and he asked me
about you."

"I like Allen;--I'm even very fond of him, and I wish I could help him
find himself. He's amusing"--and Dan laughed, remembering their first
meeting--"but with a fine, serious, manly side that you can't help
liking."

"That's nice; it's mighty nice. You be good to that boy, and you won't
lose anything by it. How do you and Morton get on?"

"First-rate, I hope. He's treated me generously."

Then she fastened her eyes upon him with quizzical severity.

"Young man, the 'Advertiser' seems to think Morton Bassett is crooked.
What do you think about it?"

Dan gasped and stammered at this disconcerting question.

She rested her arms on the table and bent toward him, the humor showing
in her eyes.

"If he _is_ crooked, young man, you needn't think you have to be as big
a sinner as he is! You remember that Sally Owen told you that. Be your
own boss. Morton's a terrible persuader. Funny for me to be talking to
you this way; I don't usually get confidential so quick. I guess"--and
her eyes twinkled--"we'll have to consider ourselves old friends to make
it right."

"You are very kind, indeed, Mrs. Owen. I see that I have a
responsibility about Allen. I'll keep an eye on him.

"Drop in now and then. I eat a good many Sunday dinners alone when I'm
at home, and you may come whenever you feel like facing a tiresome old
woman across the table."

She followed him into the hall, where they ran into Sylvia, who had been
upstairs saying good-night to her grandfather. Mrs. Owen arrested
Sylvia's flight through the hall.

"Sylvia, I guess you and Mr. Harwood are already acquainted."

"Except," said Dan, "that we haven't been introduced!"

"Then, Miss Garrison, this is Mr. Harwood. He's a Yale College man, so I
read in the paper."

"Oh, I already knew that!" replied Sylvia, laughing.

"At Wellesley please remember, Miss Garrison, about the Kalamazoo
cousins," said Dan, his hand