more, as I
jogged down Main Street, I met Judge Morton, of the Superior Court, and
made him promise that if the suit should be filed this afternoon he
would take it up on his calendar to-morrow morning and render a
judgment in your favor."

"By George," Parker declared, apparently puzzled, "one gathers the
impression that you relish parting with your patrimony when you
actually speed the date of departure."

Mrs. Parker took Don Mike by the lapel of his coat. "You have a
secret," she charged.

He shook his head.

"You have," Kay challenged. "The intuition of two women cannot be
gainsaid."

Farrel took each lady by the arm and with high, mincing steps,
simulating the utmost caution in his advance, he led them a little way
down the veranda out of hearing of the husband and father.

"It isn't a secret," he whispered, "because a secret is something which
one has a strong desire to conceal. However, I do not in the least
mind telling you the cause of the O-be-joyful look that has aroused
your curiosity. Please lower your heads and incline your best ears
toward me. . . . There! I rejoice because I have the shaggy old wolf
of Wall Street, more familiarly known as John Parker, beaten at his
favorite indoor sport of high and lofty finance. 'Tis sad, but true.
The old boy's a gone fawn. _Le roi est mort_! _vive le roi_!"

Kay's eyes danced. "Really, Miguel?"

"Not really or actually, Kay, but--er--morally certain."

"Oh!" There was disappointment in her voice. Her mother was looking
at Don Mike sharply, shrewdly, but she said nothing, and Farrel had a
feeling that his big moment had fallen rather flat.

"How soon will John be called upon to bow his head and take the blow?"
Mrs. Parker finally asked. "Much as I sympathize with you, Miguel, I
dislike the thought of John hanging in suspense, as it were."

"Oh, I haven't quite made up my mind," he replied. "I could do it
within three days, I think, but why rush the execution? Three months
hence will be ample time. You see," he confided, "I like you all so
well that I plan to delay action for six months or a year, unless, of
course, you are anxious for an excuse to leave the ranch sooner. If
you really want to go as soon as possible, of course I'll get busy and
cook Senor Parker's goose, but--"

"You're incorrigible!" the lady declared. "Procrastinate, by all
means. It would be very lonely for you without us, I'm sure."

"Indeed, it would be. That p