or Proctor!
Mr. Lane! Captain Dexter!"

"So," said Major Proctor, "you still have your damned party manners."

They had entered the room, and stood in a group before my father. Their
faces were set grimly. Their manner was stern and uncompromising, as
befitted men of unimpeachable position and integrity. As I watched them,
I still was wondering at their errand. Why should they, of all people
have paid this call? There was not one who did not own his ships and
counting house, not one who was not a leading trader in our seaport. In
all the years I had known them, not one had looked at me, or given me a
civil word, and indeed, they had little reason to give one. And yet, here
they were calling on my father.

It was an odd contradiction of the lesson books that of all the men in
the room, he should appear the most prepossessing. Though many of them
were younger, his clothes were more in fashion, and time had touched him
with a lighter hand. If I had come on them all as strangers, I should
have expected kindness and understanding from him first of any. His
forehead was broader, and his glance was keener. Indeed, there was none
who looked more the gentleman. There was no man who could have displayed
more perfect courtesy in his gravely polite salute.

"This," said my father, smiling, "is indeed a pleasure. I had hoped for
this honor, and yet the years have so often disappointed me that I had
only hoped."

Captain Tracy, short and squat, his hands held out in the way old sailors
have, as though ready instinctively to grasp some rope or bulwark, thrust
a bull neck forward, and peered at my father with little, reddened eyes,
opened in wide incredulity.

"You what?" he demanded hoarsely.

"I said, Captain Tracy, that I hoped,"--and my father helped himself to
snuff--"Will you be seated, gentlemen?"

"No," said Major Proctor.

"I have always noted," my father remarked, "that standing is better for
the figure. The climate, Major, has agreed with you."

Major Proctor launched on a savage rejoinder, but Mr. Penfield leaned
towards him with a whispered admonition.

"I take it," he said to my father, "that you did not read our letter. You
made a mistake, Mr. Shelton, a grave mistake, in not doing so."

"I am fond of reading," said my father, "and I found your letter--pardon
my rudeness--but I must be frank--I found your letter most amusing."

Mr. Lane stretched a claw-like hand toward him.

"You always did laugh," he c