tion and wounded pride, "I suppose I might have
been a little smoother with the fellow, but I've had twenty reporters
after me to-day, and between them, and you, and Matt, in all this
bother, I hardly know what I'm about. Didn't Matt see that his going to
Wellwater in behalf of Northwick's family must involve me more and
more?"

"I don't see how he could help offering to go, when he found Suzette was
going alone. He couldn't do less."

"Oh, do less!" said Hilary, with imperfectly sustained passion. He
turned, to avoid looking at Louise, and his eyes fell on a
strange-looking note-book on the table where Maxwell had sat. "What's
this?"

He took it up, and Louise said, "He must have left it." And she thought,
"Of course he will come back for it."

"Well, I must send it to him. And I'll--I'll write him a note," Hilary
groaned.

Louise smiled eager forgiveness. "He seemed very intelligent, poor
fellow, in some ways. Didn't you notice what a cultivated tone he had?
It's shocking to think of his having to go about and interview people,
and meet all kinds of rebuffs."

"I guess you'd better not waste too much sympathy on him," said Hilary,
with some return to his grudge.

"Oh, I didn't mean _you_, papa," said Louise, sweetly.

The door-bell rang, and after some parley at the threshold, Patrick came
up to say, "The gentleman that was just here thinks he left his
note-book, he--"

Hilary did not let him get the words out; "Oh, yes, show him up! Here it
is." He ran half down the stairs himself to meet Maxwell.

XVI.

Louise stole a glance at herself across the room in the little triptych
mirror against one of the shelves. Her hair was not tumbled, and she
completed her toilet to the eye by dropping her shoes and extending the
edge of her skirt over them where she stood.

Her father brought Maxwell in by the door, and she smiled a fresh
greeting to him. "We--I had just picked your note-book up. I--I'm glad
you came back, I--was a little short with you a moment ago. I--I--Mayn't
I offer you a cigar?"

"No, thanks. I don't smoke," said Maxwell.

"Then a glass of--It's pretty cold out!"

"Thank you; I never drink."

"Well, that's good! That's--sit down; sit down!--that's a very good
thing. I assure you, I don't think it's the least use, though I do both.
My boy doesn't, he's a pattern to his father."

In spite of Hilary's invitation Maxwell remained on foot, with the
effect of merely hearing him out as