ou know, and I hoped you went into town
to look him up."

"Well, I didn't, sir," declared the Major, "and as for that scamp--I have
as much knowledge of his whereabouts as I care for.--Do you know, sir," he
broke out fiercely, "that he has taken to driving a common stage?"

Champe was sharpening his pencil, and he did not look up as he answered.
"Then the sooner he leaves off the better, eh, sir?" he inquired.

"Oh, there's your everlasting wrangling!" exclaimed the Major with a
hopeless gesture. "You catch it from Molly, I reckon, and between you,
you'll drive me into dotage yet. Always arguing! Never any peace. Why, I
believe if I were to take it into my head to remark that white is white,
you would both be setting out to convince me that it is black. I tell you
now, sir, that the sooner you curb that tendency of yours, the better it
will be."

"Aren't we rather straying from the point?" interposed Champe half angrily.

"There it is again," gasped the Major.

The knife slipped in Champe's hand and scratched his finger. "Surely you
don't intend to leave Dan to knock about for himself much longer?" he said
coolly. "If you do, sir, I don't mind saying that I think it is a damn
shame."

"How dare you use such language in my presence?" roared the old gentleman,
growing purple to the neck. "Have you, also, been fighting for barmaids and
taking up with gaol-birds? It is what I have to expect, I suppose, and I
may as well accustom my ears to profanity; but damn you, sir, you must
learn some decency;" and going into the hall he shouted to Congo to bring
him a julep.

Champe said nothing more; and when the julep appeared on a silver tray, he
left the room and went upstairs to where Betty was waiting. "He's awful,
there's no use mincing words, he's simply awful," he remarked in an
exhausted voice.

"But what does he say? tell me," questioned Betty, as she moved to a little
peaked window which overlooked the lawn.

"What doesn't he say?" groaned Champe with his eyes upon her as she stood
relieved against the greenish panes of glass.

"Do you think I might speak to him?" she persisted eagerly.

"My dear girl, do you want to have your head bitten off for your pains? His
temper is positively tremendous. By Jove, I didn't know he had it in him
after all these years; I thought he had worn it out on dear Aunt Molly. And
Beau, by the way, isn't going to be the only one to suffer for his daring,
which makes me wish that he