ons were.

Mr. and Mrs. Rufus Gray, entering the first room of the series, a large
and elaborately furnished apartment with the effect of a drawing-room,
much gilt and brocade and many mirrors in evidence, looked at Richard in
some surprise, as he seated them. He himself went to the door of a
second room, glanced in, nodded, and returned to his guests.

"I hope you will find everything you want in there," he said. "If you
don't, please ring. You will see your dressing-room on the left, Mr.
Gray. I will send you my man in the morning to see if he can do anything
for you."

"I shan't need any man, thank you," protested Mr. Gray.

When, after lingering a minute or two, their young host had bade them
good-night and left them, the elderly pair looked at each other. Uncle
Rufus's eyes were twinkling, but in his wife's showed a touch of soft
indignation.

"It seems like making a joke of us," said she, "to put us in such a
place as this, when he can guess what we're used to."

"He doesn't mean it as a joke," her husband protested good-humouredly.
"He wants to give us the best he's got. I don't mind a mite. To be sure,
I could get along with one looking-glass to shave myself in, but it's
kind of interesting to know how many some folks think necessary when
they aren't limited. Let's go look in our sleeping-room. Maybe that's a
little less princely."

Aunt Ruth limped slowly across the Persian carpet, and stood still in
the doorway of the room Richard had designated as hers. Uncle Rufus
stared in over her small shoulder.

"Well, well," he chuckled. "I reckon Napoleon Bonaparte wouldn't have
thought this any too fine for him, but it sort of dazzles me. I'm glad
somebody's got that bed ready to sleep in. I shouldn't have been sure
'twas meant for that, if they hadn't. There seems to be another room on
behind this one--what's that?"

He marched across and looked in. "Now, if I was rich, I wouldn't mind
having one of these opening right out of my room. What there isn't in
here for keeping yourself clean can't be thought of."

"Rufus," said his wife solemnly, following him into the white-tiled
bathroom, "I want you should look at these bath-towels. I never in my
life set eyes on anything like them. They must have cost--I don't know
what they cost--I didn't know there were such bath-towels made!"

"I don't want to wrap myself in a blanket," asserted her husband. "I
want to know I've got a towel in my hand, that I can whisk