wouldn't see if your eyes were spyglasses. Oh, dear! why
does everything have to go wrong with me? I thought when John came that
Gertie--"

"Yes. That Gertie what?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing! Oh, my poor head! It aches so and the back of it
feels so queer. Where are the pillows? Can't you get me another pillow?"

"Sure I can! You've got three already, but I can fetch another. It's all
this society business that's breakin' you down, Serena. That everlastin'
Chapter--"

He was sorry as soon as he said it, but said it had been. He spent the
next hour in explaining that he did not mean it.

Serena was not on hand at breakfast time. Neither was Gertrude. That
young lady came into the library at ten o'clock, looking pale and worn
and with dark circles under her eyes. She had a thick envelope in her
hand.

"Daddy," she said, "will you post this for me?"

Her father looked up from the pile of papers on the writing table before
him. He, too, appeared somewhat worried.

"Sartin," he announced promptly. "I've got a stack of stuff for the
postman, myself. Bills and checks they are, mostly. Serena usually
attends to the house bills, but she's kind of under the weather this
morning. Say, Gertie," gravely, "it costs a sight to run this place, did
you know it?"

"I suppose it does."

"You bet it does! Why, I never realized--But there, I suppose likely
these bills are heavier than usual. I suppose they are. Good land! if
they ain't! But, of course they are. I'll ask Serena about 'em by and
by, when she's better. Give me your letter, Gertie, I'll mail it."

"You won't forget?"

"Not a mite. I'll put it right here with the others and give 'em to
the postman when he comes. Humph! it's to John, isn't it? You're pretty
prompt in your writin', ain't you? But that's natural; I remember when
I used to write your mother twice a day. It's a wonder she stood it and
kept her health, ain't it. Ha! ha!"

He chuckled and turned back to his bills and the checkbook. Gertrude
left the room.

Captain Dan wrote and enclosed and affixed stamps. The pile of envelopes
on the table grew steadily larger. Mr. Hungerford entered, seeking the
cigar box.

"Good-morning," he observed, cheerfully.

Daniel looked up, grunted, and went on with his work. Cousin Percy
smiled. A querulous voice called from the second floor.

"Daniel!" called Serena. "Daniel, where are you? Why don't you come up?
I am all alone."

The captain sprang to his feet, "Comi