lack of confidence between us, and I shall not
withhold anything from you. You are referring to Nan, are you not?'"

"I am, my son."

"Well?"

"I am not a cat, and it hurts me to be an old dog, but--I saw Nan
Brent recently, and we had a bit of talk together. She's a bonny lass,
Donald, and I'm thinking 'twould be better for your peace of mind--and
the peace of mind of all of us--if you saw less of her."

"You think, then, father, that I'm playing with fire."

"You're sitting on an open barrel of gunpowder with a lighted torch in
your hand."

Donald returned to his chair and faced his father.

"Let us suppose," he suggested, "that the present unhappy situation in
which Nan finds herself did not exist. Would you still prefer that I
limit my visits to, say, Christmas and Easter?"

The Laird scratched the back of his head in perplexity.

"I'm inclined to think I wouldn't," he replied. "I'd consider your
best interests always. If you married a fine girl from Chicago or New
York, she might not be content to dwell with you in Port Agnew."

"Then Nan's poverty--the lowliness of her social position, even in
Port Agnew, would not constitute a serious bar?"

"I was as poor as Job's turkey once myself--and your mother's people
were poorer. But we came of good blood."

"Well, Nan's mother was a gentlewoman; her grandfather was an
admiral; her great-grandfather a commodore, her great-great-granduncle
a Revolutionary colonel, and her grandmother an F.F.V. Old Caleb's
ancestors always followed the sea. His father and his grandfather were
sturdy old Yankee shipmasters. He holds the Congressional medal of
honor for conspicuous gallantry in action over and above the call of
duty. The Brent blood may not be good enough for some, but it's a kind
that's good enough for me!"

"All that is quite beside the question, Donald. The fact remains that
Nan Brent loves you."

"May I inquire on what grounds you base that statement, dad?"

"On Saturday night, when you held her in your arms at parting, she
kissed you." Donald was startled, and his features gave indubitable
indication of the fact. His father's cool gray eyes were bent upon him
kindly but unflinchingly. "Of course," he continued, in even tones,
"you would not have accepted that caress were you not head over heels
in love with the girl. You are not low enough to seek her favor for
another reason."

"Yes; I love her," Donald maintained manfully. "I have loved her for
y