of her coming until the day her train
was due in Oakland, when she telegraphed, suddenly reflecting, no doubt,
that she was descending into the wilderness and that precautions were
wise. Gwynne barely had time to catch the train from Rosewater, and when
the connecting boat arrived at the ferry building in San Francisco, he
was obliged to run like a thief pursued by a policeman down to the
Oakland ferry building, in order to catch the boat just starting to meet
the Overland train. All this was by no means to his taste. Nor was his
mother's cavalier arrival. It savored too much of royalty. And he had a
masculine disapproval of being taken by surprise; moreover was far less
ardent at the prospect of seeing his mother again than he would have
expected. In England he had needed her; she seemed superfluous in this
country, which she never would understand; and he wanted all his time
for his studies--and as little reminder of England as possible. His
mother, for all her individualities, was the concentrated essence of the
England he knew best. Besides, she was accustomed to a great deal of
attention. He had no taste for dancing attendance upon any one, and from
whom else could she expect it--unless, to be sure--he recalled that his
mother was a beautiful woman, always surrounded by a court of admirers.
Why should Americans be impervious to the accomplished fascination and
the beauty of a woman that had reigned in London for thirty years? He
determined to press Isabel into service. She could try her hand on his
mother's American destinies, and provide her with amusement and a host
of friends.

He felt all the promptings of natural affection when he was actually
face to face with his mother once more, and forgot all his doubts in his
intense amusement at her naive surprise before the comfortable immensity
of the San Francisco hotels, and the crowds and automobiles in the
streets.

The next day he took her up to the ranch. For a week she stalked about
the country, eight hours out of the twenty-four, expressing interest in
nothing, although her eyes always softened at her son's approach; and if
she manifested no enthusiasm for his adopted country, at least she
barely mentioned the one of his heart. At the end of a week she promptly
accepted Isabel's suggestion to transfer herself and her grim disgusted
maid to the house on Russian Hill. Isabel lost no time in piloting her
thither. Anne Montgomery undertook to provide her with a s