nto a fine rage. The aigrette on her bonnet
quivered, and the black velvet band about her neck was getting so tight
that it looked as if it couldn't stand the strain much longer.

"Why didn't he write me?" she stormed. "Am I too old and decrepit to be
consulted any more? Is he going to follow Enid's high-handed way of
deciding things without the slightest reference to my wishes?"

"I expect he is," said Quin cheerfully. "You see, you can't stiffen a
fellow's backbone, as you call it, for one thing and not another. When he
found out he could stop drinking, he decided he could do other things as
well. He's started a chicken farm."

Madam groaned: "Of course. I never knew a fool that sooner or later
didn't gravitate to chickens. He will get an incubator next."

"He has two already. He and Mrs. Ranny are studying out the whole
business scientifically."

"And I suppose they've got a rabbit hutch, and a monkey, and some white
mice?"

"Not quite. But they've got a nice place. Want to go out with me next
Saturday and see 'em?"

"I do not. I'm not interested in menageries. I never expect to cross the
threshold."

Quin pulled up the cape that had slipped from her shoulder, and adjusted
it carefully.

"When Mr. Ranny comes in to see you," he said, "I hope you won't ball him
out right away. He's awful keen on this stunt, you know. It sort of takes
the place of the things he has given up."

Madam glared straight ahead of her for a few moments, then she said
curtly:

"I'll not mention it until he does."

"Oh, but I _want_ you to. He's as nervous as a witch about how you are
going to take it. You see, he thinks more of your opinion than he does of
anybody's, and he wants your approval. If you could jump right in and say
you think it's a bully idea, and that you are coming out to see what he
has done, and----"

"Do you want me to lie?" Madam demanded fiercely.

"No," said Quin, laughing; "I am trying to warm you up to the project
now, so you won't have to lie." Then, seeing her face relax a little, he
leaned toward her and said in his most persuasive tone:

"See here, now! I did my best to straighten Mr. Ranny out. He's making
the fight of his life to keep straight. It's up to you to stand by us.
You don't want to pitch the fat back in the fire, do you?"

They had reached the big house on Third Avenue, and the carriage was
slowing up at the curbing. Quin, receiving no answer to his question,
carefully helped Madam