Well, finding himself forced by that immeasurable old Aunt Josephine of yours to shake hands, he shook 'em all right, but he took thirty dollars away as a little set-off for his pious docility."

"Oh!" she murmured, overwhelmed with astonishment. Then she broke into one of her delicious peals of laughter.

Anybody," I said, "likes a boy who plays a hand and a fist to that tune.' I continued to say a number of commendatory words about young John, while her sparkling eyes rested upon me. But even as I talked I grew aware that these eyes were not sparkling, were starry rather, and distant, and that she was not hearing what I said; so I stopped abruptly, and at the stopping she spoke, like a person waking up.

"Oh, yes! Certainly he can take care of himself. Why not?"

"Rather creditable, don't you think?" Creditable?"

"Considering his aunts and everything." She became haughty on the instant. Upon my word! And do you suppose the women of South Carolina don't wish their men to be men? Why" she returned to mirth and that arch mockery which was her special charm - "we South Carolina women consider virtue our business, and we don't expect the men to meddle with it!"

-

"Primal, perpetual, necessary!" I cried. "When that division gets blurred, society is doomed. Are you sure John can take care of himself every way?"

"I have other things than Mr. Mayrant to think about." She said this quite sharply.

It surprised me. "To be sure," I assented. "But didn't you once tell me that you thought he was simple?"

She opened her ledger. "It's a great honor to have one's words so well remembered."

I was still at a loss. "Anyhow, the wedding is postponed," I continued; "and the cake. Of course one can't help wondering how it's all coming out."

She was now working at her ledger, bending her head over it. "Have you ever met Miss Rieppe?" She inquired this with a sort of wonderful softness - which I was to hear again upon a still more memorable occasion.

"Never," I answered, "but there's nobody at present living whom I long to see so much." She wrote on for a little while before saying, with her pencil steadily busy, "Why?"

"Why? Don't you? After all this fuss?" "Oh, certainly," she drawled. "She is so much admired by Northerners."

"I do hope John is able to take care of himself!" I purposely repeated.

"Take care of yourself!" she laughed angrily over her ledger.

"Me? Why? I understand you less and

less!"

"Very likely."

“I

Why, I want to help him!" I protested. don't want him to marry her. Oh, by the way, do you happen to know what it is that she is coming here to see for herself?"

In a moment her ledger was left, and she was looking at me straight. Coming? When?

P

"Soon. In an automobile. To see something for herself."

She pondered for quite a long moment; then her eyes returned, searchingly, to me. "You didn't make that up?"

I laughed, and explained. "Some of them, at any rate," I finished, "know what she's coming for. They were rather queer about it, I thought.

She pondered again. I noticed that she had deeply flushed, and that the flush was leaving her. Then she fixed her eyes on me once more. "They wouldn't tell you?

"I think that they came inadvertently near it, once or twice, and remembered just in time that I didn't know about it."

"But since you do know pretty much about it!" she laughed.

I shook my head. "There's something else, something that's turned up; the sort of thing that upsets calculations. And I merely hoped that you'd know."

On those last words of mine she gave me quite an extraordinary look, and then, as if satisfied with what she saw in my face:

66

"They don't talk to me."

It was an assurance, it was true, it had the ring of truth, that evident genuineness which a piece of real confidence always possesses; she meant me to know that we were in the same boat of ignorance to-day. And yet, as I rose from my lunch and came forward to settle for it, I was aware of some sense of defeat, of having been held off just as the ladies on High Walk had held

me off.

“Well,” I sighed, “I pin my faith to the aunt who says he'll never marry her."

Miss La Heu had no more to say upon the subject. "Haven't you forgotten something?" she inquired gayly; and, as I turned to see what I had left behind-"I mean, you had no Lady Baltimore to-day.”

"I clean forgot it!"

"No loss. It is very stale; and to-morrow I shall have a fresh supply ready."

As I departed through the door I was conscious of her eyes following me, and that she had spoken of Lady Baltimore precisely because she was thinking of something else.

XIV

THE REPLACERS

SHE had been strange, perceptibly strange, had Eliza La Heu; that was the most which I could make out of it. I had angered her in some manner wholly beyond my intention or understanding and not all at one fixed point in our talk; her irritation had come out and gone in again in spots all along the colloquy, and it had been a displeasure wholly apart from that indignation which had flashed up in her over the negro question. This, indeed, I understood well enough, and admired her for, and admired still more her gallant control of it; as for the other, I gave it up.

A sense of guilt - a very slight one, to be sure dispersed my speculations when I was preparing for dinner, and Aunt Carola's postscript, open upon my writing-table, reminded me that I had never asked Miss La Heu about the Bombos. Well, the Bombos could keep! And I descended to dinner a little late (as too often) to feel instantly in the air that they had been talking about me. I doubt if any company in the world, from the Greeks down through Machiavelli to the present moment, has ever been of a subtlety adequate to conceal from an observant person entering a room the fact that he has been the subject of their con