She had really nothing in common with Parker; their conversation

was composed entirely of personalities about their various

friends, and Leila felt it a great burden, and dreaded the hours

she must perforce spend alone with her future husband. It would be

much better when they were married, of course, but they could not

even begin to talk wedding plans yet, because Parker lived in

nervous terror of his aunt's disapproval, and Mrs. Watts

Frothingham was just now in Europe, and had not yet seen fit to

answer her nephew's dignified notification of his new plans, or

the dutiful and gracious note with which Miss Leila had

accompanied it.

The truth, though Leila did not know it, was that Mrs. Frothingham

had a pretty social secretary named Margaret Clay, a strange,

attractive little person, eighteen years old, whose mother had

been the old lady's companion for many years. And to Magsie, as

they all called her, young Mr. Hoyt had paid some decided

attention not many months before. Mrs. Frothingham had seen fit to

disapprove these advances then, but she was an extraordinarily

erratic and cross-grained old lady, and her silence now had forced

her nephew uncomfortably to suspect that she might have changed

her mind.

"Darn it!" said the engaging youth to himself "It's none of her

business, anyway, what I do!" But it made him acutely uneasy none

the less. He was the possessor of a good income, as he stood

there, this mild little blond; it came to him steadily and

regularly, with no effort at all on his part, but, with his aunt's

million--it must be at least that--he felt that he would have been

much happier. There it was, safe in the family, and she was

seventy-six, and without a direct heir. It would be too bad to

miss it now!

He thought of it a great deal, was thinking of it this moment, in

fact, and Leila suspected that he was. But Mrs. Buckney, aside

from a half-formed wish that young persons were more demonstrative

in these days, and that the wedding might be soon, had not a care

in the world, and, after a moment's unresponsive silence, returned

blithely to her query about Clarence Breckenridge.

"I haven't seen him," responded one of her daughters presently.

"Funny, too! Last year he didn't miss a day."

"Of course he'll get the cup as usual, this year," Mrs. Buckney

said brightly. "But I don't suppose young people with their heads

full of wedding plans will care much about the golf!" she added

courageously.

To this Miss Leila answered only with a weary shrug.

"Been drinking lately," Mr. Hoyt volunteered.




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