years
before. He was an immediate and an unquestioned success. His portrait
adorned the front page of almost every Boston newspaper the next
morning, and captious critics vied with each other to do him honor. His
full history, from boyhood up, was featured, with special emphasis on
his recent triumphs in New York and foreign capitals. He was interviewed
as to his opinion on everything from vegetarianism to woman's suffrage;
and his preferences as to pies and pastimes were given headline
prominence. There was no doubt of it. Mr. M. J. Arkwright was a star.

All Arkwright's old friends, including Billy, Bertram, Cyril, Marie,
Calderwell, Alice Greggory, Aunt Hannah, and Tommy Dunn, went to hear
him sing; and after the performance he held a miniature reception,
with enough adulation to turn his head completely around, he declared
deprecatingly. Not until the next evening, however, did he have an
opportunity for what he called a real talk with any of his friends;
then, in Calderwell's room, he settled back in his chair with a sigh of
content.

For a time his own and Calderwell's affairs occupied their attention;
then, after a short pause, the tenor asked abruptly:

"Is there anything--wrong with the Henshaws, Calderwell?"

Calderwell came suddenly erect in his chair.

"Thank you! I hoped you'd introduce that subject; though, for that
matter, if you hadn't, I should. Yes, there is--and I'm looking to you,
old man, to get them out of it."

"I?" Arkwright sat erect now.

"Yes."

"What do you mean?"

"In a way, the expected has happened--though I know now that I didn't
really expect it to happen, in spite of my prophecies. You may remember
I was always skeptical on the subject of Bertram's settling down to a
domestic hearthstone. I insisted 'twould be the turn of a girl's head
and the curve of her cheek that he wanted to paint."

Arkwright looked up with a quick frown.

"You don't mean that Henshaw has been cad enough to find another--"

Calderwell threw up his hand.

"No, no, not that! We haven't that to deal with--yet, thank goodness!
There's no woman in it. And, really, when you come right down to it, if
ever a fellow had an excuse to seek diversion, Bertram Henshaw has--poor
chap! It's just this. Bertram broke his arm again last October."

"Yes, so I hear, and I thought he was looking badly."

"He is. It's a bad business. 'Twas improperly set in the first place,
and it's not doing well now. In fact, I'm