he found her in the kitchen talking with Azuba, and on another occasion she and Mr. Hapgood were in conversation, but for her father she could spare only odd moments. The captain did not know what to make of it. When, taking advantage of a fleeting opportunity, he asked her she only laughed.
"I am very busy, Daddy," she said. "You mustn't bother."
"Bother! Well, I like that! How long since my company was a bother to you, Gertie? It never used to be."
"It isn't now, and you know it. But, as I say, I am very busy. Business first, pleasure afterwards."
"Humph! I'm glad I'm a pleasure, even if it's the kind that comes after everything else. What have you and your ma been talkin' about upstairs for the last hour?"
"A great many things--society and the Chapter and--oh, all sorts."
"Want to know! What were you and Azuba talkin' about?"
"About household matters and the people IN the house."
"People in the house! What people?"
"You and mother and Mr. Hun--that is, Cousin Percy--and Hapgood."
"That's all there is, except yourself. What was you and Hapgood havin' a confab on; more household matters?"
"Yes, in a way. Daddy, have Mr. Hungerford and Hapgood known each other long?"
"I guess so. He was Aunt Laviny's butler for a good many years, and Percy was a regular visitor there. What made you ask that?"
"Feminine curiosity, probably. Has our cousin many friends here in Scarford?"
"Why, he seems to know 'most everybody; everybody that's in what he and your mother call society, that is."
"But has he any intimate friends? Have you met any of them?"
"I met one once. He seemed to be pretty intimate. Anyhow, they called each other by their first names. Ho! ho! that whole thing was kind of funny. I never wrote you about that, did I?"
He told of the meeting in the Rathskeller. Gertrude evinced much interest.
"What was this friend's name?" she asked.
"'Monty,' that's all I heard. Queer name, ain't it--isn't it, I mean. But it ain't any queerer than 'Tacks'; that's what he called Hungerford."
"Has this 'Monty' called here? Has he been here at the house?"
"No-o, no, he hasn't. I caught a glimpse of him at the club, that time when I went there with Barney--Godfreys! it's a good thing Serena didn't hear me say that--with Phelps Black, I mean."
"Daddy, sometime when you have an opportunity, ask Mr. Black about this Monty, will you?"
"Sartin, if you want me to. But what do you care about Percy Hungerford's friends?"
"I don't--about his friends."
With which enigmatical remark she moved away to join Cousin Percy, who had just entered the room.
During the next three days, Daniel's feeling that his daughter was neglecting him grew stronger than ever. Her "business," whatever it might be, occupied practically all her time, and the captain and she were scarcely ever alone. He was disappointed. He had regarded her coming as the life preserver which was to help him through the troubled waters to dry land, and so far he was as helplessly adrift as before. Serena had forgiven his profane expression concerning her beloved Chapter, that was true, but Serena also was "busy" during the days and evenings, and at bedtime she was too tired to talk. Gertrude was with her mother a great deal, and with Cousin Percy almost as much. They visited the water-color exhibition together, and would have gone on other excursions if the cousin had had his way. Daniel did not like Mr. Hungerford. He had grown to tolerate him because Serena liked him so much, and declared him such a help in her literary and political labors, but the captain had found secret comfort in the belief that his daughter did not like him any better than he did. Now it looked as if she was beginning to like him, after all. And there was no doubt whatever that Cousin Percy liked her.
Gertrude's apparent interest in her mother's social and Chapter affairs was another disquieting feature of the situation, as Daniel viewed it. Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called one afternoon and to them the young lady was cordiality itself. They talked "Chapter," of course, and to her father's horror Gertrude talked it, too. Being invited to attend the next meeting she announced that she should be delighted to go.
"You didn't mean it, did you, Gertie?" pleaded the captain, when Serena had escorted the guests to the door. "You didn't mean you was figgerin' to go to that devilish--to that Chapter?"
"Hush! Yes, of course I meant it."
"But--but YOU!"
"Hush! Daddy, don't interfere. I know what I'm about."
Daniel was doubtful. If she had known she surely would not think of going. And yet, on the evening of the meeting, go she did. The meeting was a protracted one, and, on their return, Serena, finding the lower rooms apparently deserted, went upstairs. Gertrude was about to follow, but a figure stepped from the shadows of the library and detained her.
"Why, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing up at this hour?"
"Sh-sh!" in an agitated whisper. "Don't let your mother hear you. I--I've been waitin' for you, Gertie. I just had to talk to you. Come in here."
He led the way into the library.
"Don't say anything," he whispered; "that is, don't say very much. Serena'll be wantin' to know where I am in a minute. Gertie, what are you up to? WHY did you go to that Chapter?"
"Hush, Daddy, hush! It is all right."
"All right! Yes, I know it's all right so far. That's what your mother used to say, back in Trumet, when she first started in. You begin by sayin' it's all right and pretty soon it IS all right. It ain't all right for me--it's all wrong. Why did you go to that meetin'?"
"I went because I wanted to see for myself. And I saw."
"Yes, you saw. And you heard, too, I'll bet you. Well, did you like it?"
"LIKE it! Daddy, tell me: There is another Woman's Club in Scarford, isn't there? This can't be the only one."
"No, it ain't. I believe there's another. A different one--a sensible one, so I've heard tell. Mrs. Fenholtz--you've heard me speak of her, Gertie; she's a fine woman--she belonged to the other one. She wanted Serena to join, but Annette Black had her innin's first, and after that 'twas all off."
"I see, I see."
"You see; but what are you goin' to do? Are you goin' to any more of them blessed meetin's?"
"I may. I probably shall. Daddy, dear, you must trust me. It is all right, I tell you."
Ordinarily this would have been enough. But to-night it was not. Captain Dan had spent some troubled hours since dinner and his nerves were on the ragged edge.
"All right!" he repeated impatiently. "Don't say that again. Is it all right for you to be gettin' into the same mess your mother is in? Is it all right for you to be talkin' about society and Chapters and--and I don't know what all? I did trust you, Gertie. I said so. I told Serena so this very afternoon. She was talkin' about Cousin Percy, she's always praisin' him up, and she said you liked him just as much as she did. He was a cultivated, superior young man, she said, and you recognized it. I laughed at her. I says, 'That's all right,' I says, 'but I wouldn't take too much stock in that. Gertie knows what she's up to. She's got some plan in her head, she told me so. She may pretend--'"
His daughter interrupted him.
"Father!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Daddy! did you tell Mother