where. And when we went, would she go with us? Hardly. She
would demand the promised "settlement," and then--What then?
Explanations--quarrels--parting. A parting for all time. I had reached
a point where, like Hephzy, I would have gladly suggested a real
"adoption," the permanent addition to our family of Strickland Morley's
daughter, but she would not consent to that. She was proud--very proud.
And she idolized her father's memory. No, she would not remain under any
such conditions--I knew it. And the certainty of that knowledge
brought with it a pang which I could not analyze. A man of my age and
temperament should not have such feelings.

Hephzy did not fancy Heathcroft. She had liked him well enough during
our first acquaintance aboard the steamer, but now, when she knew him
better, she did not fancy him. His lofty, condescending manner irritated
her and, as he seemed to enjoy joking at her expense, the pair had some
amusing set-tos. I will say this for Hephzy: In the most of these she
gave at least as good as she received.

For example: we were sitting about the tea-table on the lawn, Hephzy,
Frances, Doctor and Mrs. Bayliss, their son, and Heathcroft. The
conversation had drifted to the subject of eatables, a topic suggested,
doubtless, by the plum cake and cookies on the table. Mr. Heathcroft was
amusing himself by poking fun at the American custom of serving cereals
at breakfast.

"And the variety is amazing," he declared. "Oats and wheat and corn!
My word! I felt like some sort of animal--a horse, by Jove! We feed our
horses that sort of thing over here, Miss Cahoon."

Hephzy sniffed. "So do we," she admitted, "but we eat 'em ourselves,
sometimes, when they're cooked as they ought to be. I think some
breakfast foods are fine."

"Do you indeed? What an extraordinary taste! Do you eat hay as well, may
I ask?"

"No, of course we don't."

"Why not? Why draw the line? I should think a bit of hay might be
the--ah--the crowning tit-bit to a breakfasting American. Your horses
and donkeys enjoy it quite as much as they do oats, don't they?"

"Don't know, I'm sure. I'm neither a horse nor a donkey, I hope."

"Yes. Oh, yes. But I assure you, Miss Morley, I had extraordinary
experiences on the other side. I visited in a place called Milwaukee and
my host there insisted on my trying a new cereal each morning. We did
the oats and the corn and all the rest and, upon my word, I expected
the hay. It was the only don