annoyed. She had been regarding Mr. Doane.
"Mother," she said sharply, "don't be silly. We did not ask for an escort and we didn't need one. The whole thing was quite unnecessary and unexpected. Come, Mother, do take off your things. Oh, I'm so glad to get home."
The ladies retired to remove their wraps. John made a move to go to their assistance, but Mr. Hungerford, attentive as usual, got ahead of him.
"Well, Daddy dear," said Gertrude, as they re-entered, "what have you and John been doing while we were away? I suppose you've had a long talk?"
Daniel colored. He looked at Mr. Doane, who, in spite of himself, colored also, and was tremendously annoyed because he did so.
"Yes," said the captain hastily. "Yes, we talked. We talked, didn't we, John?"
"We did," affirmed John.
"I'm sure you did. And what about?"
"Oh--oh, about everything. How did the Chapter doin's go off? You're a member now, I suppose, Gertie?"
"Yes," was the brief reply, "I am a member."
"Um-hm! Well, I hope you're satisfied--I mean I hope you'll like it. Didn't make a speech, did you? Ha! ha!"
Gertrude did not answer. Serena, to her husband's surprise, appeared vexed.
"But she did though, by Jove!" exclaimed Cousin Percy. "She did, and I'm told it created a great sensation. Miss Canby told me about it as I was waiting for you to come out, Gertrude. She said you gave them a brand-new idea. Congratulations, Gertrude. Wish I might have heard it. Something about the privileges of the Chapter being extended to the hoi polloi, wasn't it?"
The new member of Scarford Chapter looked more annoyed than ever.
"I spoke of the Chapter's advantages being extended," she said, "that's all."
"And enough, too," cried her mother, impatiently. "Quite enough, I should think. If I had known you were going to do that, I should have stayed at home. It was that foolish Azuba who put the notion in your head. You'll be proposing her name next, I suppose. The idea!"
Daniel burst into a roar of laughter.
"What do you think of that, John?" he cried. "Zuby Jane makin' speeches! There's advancement for you, ain't it?"
John smiled, but rather faintly. He had scarcely taken his eyes from Cousin Percy's aristocratic presence. The latter gentleman turned to him.
"Well--er--Mr.--Mr. Doane," he observed carelessly, "how do you like Scarford, as far as you've seen it?"
John replied that he had seen very little of it.
"You will find it a bit different from--er--what is it? Oh, yes, Trumet. You'll find it a bit different from Trumet, I imagine."
"No doubt. I can see that already."
"But John doesn't come from Trumet," explained Serena; "that is, not now. He is in business in Boston."
Cousin Percy seemed surprised. He favored the visitor with another look. "Indeed!" he drawled. He did not add "He doesn't look it," in words, but his manner expressed just that.
Daniel caught his wife's eye. "Well, Serena," he observed, with a meaning wink, "I guess likely you're tired, ain't you? Time to go aloft and turn in, I should say."
Serena nodded. "Yes," she answered. "Gertrude, you and John will excuse us, won't you? John, Captain Dott and I will see you in the morning. Good-night! Good-night, Cousin Percy."
"Good-night!" said Mr. Hungerford.
"You'll excuse us, John, I'm sure," went on Serena. "Of course you and Gertie will want to talk, and," with a slight pause and a glance at Percy, "we will only be in the way. Come, Daniel."
Captain Dan paused in the doorway. "Ain't you tired, too, Cousin Percy?" he inquired.
It was a fairly broad hint, but Mr. Hungerford did not take it.
"Oh, no," he replied; "not at all. Good-night, Captain."
He seated himself on the sofa. Daniel, frowning, followed his wife upstairs.
The conversation which ensued was confined almost altogether to Hungerford and Gertrude. John Doane had little to say, and less opportunity to say it. Each remark made by the young lady was answered by Percy, and that gentleman talked almost incessantly. His remarks also were of a semi-confidential nature, dealing with happenings at various social affairs which Gertrude and he had attended, and hints at previous conversations and understandings between them. John began to feel himself an outsider. After a time he ceased trying to talk and relapsed into silence.
Gertrude noticed the silence and, seizing a moment when her entertaining cousin had paused, perhaps for breath, said, almost sharply:
"John, why don't you say something? You haven't spoken for five minutes."
John said very little, even in reply to this accusation.
"Haven't I?" he observed. "Well, what shall I say?"
"You might say something, considering that you and I haven't seen each other for so long."
Mr. Hungerford rose. "I hope I haven't interfered," he announced. "Didn't mean to intrude, I assure you. Beg pardon--er--Doane."
John did not answer. Gertrude also rose.
"Good-night, Cousin Percy," she said, with a gracious smile. "Thank you so much for the carriage and your escort."
"Quite welcome. Pleasure was mine. Goodnight, Gertrude. Oh, by the way, I believe you and I are to go over that paper of your mother's tomorrow. She asked my advice and said you would assist, I think. I shall look forward to that assistance. Good-night, Doane. Glad to have met you, I'm sure."
He strolled out. Upon reaching his room he discovered that his cigar case was empty. Hapgood not being on hand and, feeling the need of a bedtime smoke, he tiptoed down the stairs and through the back hall into the library. The room was dark, but sufficient light shone between the closed curtains of the drawing-room to enable him to locate Captain Dan's box. Silently and very slowly he refilled the case.
John Doane and Gertrude, alone at last, looked at each other. The former was very solemn. Gertrude, quite aware of the solemnity, but not aware of its principal cause--her father's impolitic disclosure of his apprehensions concerning herself--was nervous and a bit impatient.
"Well, John," she asked, after a moment's wait, "aren't you going to say anything to me even now?"
John tried his best to smile. It was a poor attempt.
"Why, yes," he said slowly, "I came all the way from Boston to see you and talk to you, Gertie. There is no reason why I shouldn't say--whatever there is to say, I suppose."
Gertrude looked at him. The tone in which this speech was delivered, and the speech itself--the first part of it, especially--amazed and hurt her. Incidentally, her temper having been sorely tried already that evening by Mr. Hungerford, it made her angry.
"All the way from Boston," she repeated. "Well, I never knew you to complain in that way before. I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble."
"It wasn't a trouble, Gertie. You know I would go around the world for you."
"Then why speak of coming all the way from Boston? Whose fault was it, pray? Did I ask you to come?"
And now, John, who had been fighting his own temper for some time, grew angry.
"You did not," he declared. "But I judge it was time I did."
"Indeed!