pence. I am visiting
here."

Immediately the dainty Miss Cynthia was all smiles.

"So it is relatives that bring you to the Cape!" said she.

Robert Morton nodded. She seemed mollified.

"Didn't Roger write you that we had taken a house at Belleport for the
season?" she asked.

"No," replied Bob. "I haven't heard from him for weeks."

"He's a brute. Yes, we came down in May just after I got back from
California. We are crazy over the place. The family will be wild when
I tell them you are here. My brother," she went on, turning with a
pretty graciousness toward Celestina, "was Bob's roommate at Harvard.
In that way we came to know him very well and have always kept up the
acquaintance."

"Do you come from the West, same as my nephew does?" questioned
Celestina when there was a pause.

The little lady raised her eyebrows deprecatingly.

"No, indeed! The East is quite good enough for us. We are from New
York. The boys, however, were always visiting back and forth," she
added with haste, "so we have quite an affection for Indiana even if we
don't live there." She shot a conciliatory smile in Robert Morton's
direction. "Couldn't you go back with me in the car, Bob," she asked
turning toward him, "and spring a surprise on the household? Dad's
down, Mother's here, and also Grandmother Lee; and the mighty and
illustrious Roger, fresh from his law office on Fifth Avenue, is
expected Friday. Do come."

"I am afraid I can't to-day," Bob answered.

"Why, Bob, there ain't the least reason in the world you shouldn't go,"
put in Celestina.

The young man fingered the package in his hand nervously.

"I really couldn't, Cynthia," he repeated, ignoring the interruption.
"I'd like immensely to come another day, though. But to-day Mr. Spence
and I have a piece of work on hand--"

He paused, discomfited at meeting the astonished gaze of Willie's mild
blue eyes.

"Of course you know best," Cynthia replied, drawing in her chin with
some hauteur. "I shouldn't think of urging you."

"I'd be bully glad to come another day," reiterated Robert Morton,
fully conscious he had offended his fair guest, yet determined to stand
his ground. "Tell the affluent Roger to slide over in his racer
sometime when he has nothing better to do and get me."

"He will probably only be here for the week-end," retorted Cynthia
coldly.

"Sunday, then; why not Sunday? Mr. Spence and I do not work Sundays."

"All right, if you