ross. Miss Moore was with the Winstons, and
chairs had been reserved for the Morleys; but Mrs. Morley was tired and
didn't come down; of course the bridegroom kept her company upstairs;
and I was just in time to ask if I might have one of the vacant places,
before two of those dreadful boys made a rush for the table. When Miss
Moore heard Winston's question about Storm she looked up, apparently in
surprise; for though you have made him your secretary and he has been a
good deal spoiled by every one at Kidd's Pines and those Awepesha
people, _she_ first saw him, you must remember, in his own class of life
as a steerage passenger. It must have seemed queer that Winston should
expect the man to dance with girls like her and the Goodriches.
Naturally she didn't put her surprise into words. She is too
kind-hearted.

If Storm had any conception of what his sphere in society ought to be,
he would, when asked, have answered, "I _don't_ dance." He need not have
lied and said, "I can't." His conceit is such, however, that he hadn't
the grace to keep out of the limelight when it suited his purpose to
pose in it. He did dance, not only with the Goodrich girls, but with
Miss Moore. Perhaps you can understand why I told you that his being
along would spoil this trip for me, and why I asked you as a particular
favour to recall him on the excuse of urgent business. I can now drive a
Grayles-Grice very well, certainly as well as he can; and my chauffeur
could have run him back to you at Kidd's Pines in the Wilmot.

[Illustration: map]*

While I was momentarily expecting a 'phone call, a telegram was brought
to me in the ballroom, where I was sitting out some new-fangled thing
everybody seemed idiotically wild over. The envelope was addressed to me
all right, but I couldn't make head or tail of what was inside until
suddenly it popped into my head that you'd been absent-minded and mixed
Storm and me. It seemed almost too bad to be true. And worse than
all, Storm was in the act of studying his message with the assistance of
Miss Moore. Of course he'd got on to the guiding idea, and probably put
her on to it also. The fat is thoroughly in the fire now. Even though I
still expect to get news about the man which will queer his pitch
considerably (as I prophesied to you), there may be a lingering
resentment in Miss Moore's mind against me. She is apt to think, from
what Storm will have put into her head, that I might have minded my own
bus