els, and now and then would
have them stolen.

That night, when they had got home, Montague had a talk with his cousin
about Charlie Carter. He discovered a peculiar situation. It seemed
that Alice already knew that Charlie had been "bad." He was sick and
miserable; and her beauty and innocence had touched him and made him
ashamed of himself, and he had hinted darkly at dreadful evils. Thus
carefully veiled, and tinged with mystery and romance, Montague could
understand how Charlie made an interesting and appealing figure. "He
says I'm different from any girl he ever met," said Alice--a remark of
such striking originality that her cousin could not keep back his smile.

Alice was not the least bit in love with him, and had no idea of being;
and she said that she would accept no invitations, and never go alone
with him; but she did not see how she could avoid him when she met him
at other people's houses. And to this Montague had to assent.

General Prentice had inquired kindly as to what Montague had seen in
New York, and how he was getting along. He added that he had talked
about him to Judge Ellis, and that when he was ready to get to work,
the Judge would perhaps have some suggestions to make to him. He
approved, however, of Montague's plan of getting his bearings first;
and said that he would introduce him and put him up at a couple of the
leading clubs.

All this remained in Montague's mind; but there was no use trying to
think of it at the moment. Thanksgiving was at hand, and in countless
country mansions there would be gaieties under way. Bertie Stuyvesant
had planned an excursion to his Adirondack camp, and had invited a
score or so of young people, including the Montagues. This would be a
new feature of the city's life, worth knowing about.

Their expedition began with a theatre-party. Bertie had engaged four
boxes, and they met there, an hour or so after the performance had
begun. This made no difference, however, for the play was like the
opera-a number of songs and dances strung together, and with only plot
enough to provide occasion for elaborate scenery and costumes. From the
play they were carried to the Grand Central Station, and a little
before midnight Bertie's private train set out on its journey.

This train was a completely equipped hotel. There was a baggage
compartment and a dining-car and kitchen; and a drawing-room and
library-car; and a bedroom-car--not with berths, such as the ordinary