y fagged. You'll have all your work cut
out. To manage Stella herself, let alone her piano and let alone her
land, is worth a very handsome salary. But that's nothing to do with it.
You're in love with each other. Are you going to be selfish enough to
satisfy your own silly pride at the expense of her happiness? I could
say lots more. I could sing your praises as ..."

"Thanks very much. You needn't bother," interrupted Alan gruffly.

"Well, will you not be an ass?"

"I'll try."

"Otherwise I shall tell you what a perfect person you are."

"Get out," said Alan, flinging a cushion.

Michael left him and went down to the Randolph. He found Stella already
dressed and waiting impatiently in the lobby for his arrival. His mother
was not yet down.

"It's all right," he began, "I've destroyed the last vestige of Alan's
masculine vanity. Mother will be all right--if," said Michael severely,
pausing to relish the flavor of what might be the last occasion on which
he would administer with authority a brotherly admonition. "_If_ you
don't put on a lot of side and talk about being twenty-one in a couple
of months. Do you understand?"

Stella for answer flung her arms round his neck, and Michael grew purple
under the conspicuous affront she had put upon his dignity.

"You absurd piece of pomposity," she said. "I really adore you."

"For God's sake don't talk in that exaggerated way," Michael muttered.
"I hope you aren't going to make a public ass of Alan like that. He'd be
rather sick."

"If you say another word," Stella threatened, "I'll clap my hands and go
dancing all round this hotel."

At lunch Michael explained that he was not coming to town for a day or
two, and his mother accepted his announcement with her usual gracious
calm. Just before they were getting ready to enter their cab to go to
the station, Michael took her aside.

"Mother, you'll be very sympathetic, won't you?" Then he whispered to
her, fondling her arm. "They really are so much in love, but Alan will
never be able to explain how much, and I swear to you he and Stella were
made for each other."

"But they don't want to be married at once?" asked Mrs. Fane, in some
alarm.

"Oh, not to-morrow," Michael admitted. "But don't ask them to have a
year's engagement. Will you promise me?"

"Why don't you come back to-night and talk to me about it?" she asked.

"Because they'll be so delightful talking to you without me. I should
spoil it. And don't