ir visit of ceremony to
Hortense, she alone--she and Eliza La Heu--had been absent. Eliza's
declining to share in that was well-nigh inevitable, but Miss Josephine
was another matter. Perhaps she had considered her sister's going there
to be enough; at any rate, she had not been party to the surrender,
and this gave me whimsical satisfaction. Moreover, it had evidently
occasioned no ruffle in the affectionate relations between herself and
John.

"John," said she, "as you drive by, do get me a plumber."

"Much better get a burglar, Aunt Josephine. Cheaper in the end, and
neater work."

It was thus, at the outset, that I came to believe John's spirits were
high; and this illusion he successfully kept up until after we had left
the plumber and Kings Port several sordid miles behind us; the
approach to Kings Port this way lies through dirtiest Africa. John
was loquacious; John discoursed upon the Replacers; Mrs. Weguelin St.
Michael had quite evidently expressed to her own circle what she thought
of them; and the town in consequence, although it did not see them or
their automobiles, because it appeared they were gone some twenty miles
inland upon an excursion to a resort where was a large hotel, and a
little variety in the way of some tourists of the Replacer stripe,--the
town kept them well in its mind's eye. The automobiles would have
sufficed to bring them into disrepute, but Kings Port had a better
reason in their conduct in the church; and John found many things to
say to me, as we drove along, about Bohm and Charley and Kitty. Gazza he
forgot, although, as shall appear in its place, Gazza was likely to live
a long while in his memory. Beverly Rodgers he, of course, recognized
as being a gentleman--it was clear that Beverly met with Kings Port's
approval--and, from his Newport experiences, John was able to make out
quite as well as if he had heard Beverly explain it himself the whole
wise philosophic system of joining with the Replacers in order that you
be not replaced yourself.

"In his shoes mightn't I do the same?" he surmised. "I fear I'm not as
Spartan as my aunts--only pray don't mention it to them!"

And then, because I had been answering him with single syllables, or
with nods, or not at all, he taxed me with my taciturnity; he even went
so far as to ask me what thoughts kept me so silent--which I did not
tell him.

"I am wondering," I told him instead, "how much they steal every week."

"Those finan