tail of his eye.

"I like you, Nichols. We'll get along. You've got courage and
intelligence--and of course anybody can see you're a gentleman. You'll
keep on taking your meals in the house----"

"If you'd like me to go elsewhere----"

"No. I see no reason why Peggy shouldn't like you. I hope she will. But
she's very headstrong, has been since a kid. I suppose I humor her a
bit--who wouldn't? I lost my oldest girl and her boy with the 'flu.' Her
husband's still in France. And Peggy's got a will of her own, Peg has,"
he finished in a kind of admiring abstraction. "Got a society bee in her
bonnet. Wants to go with all the swells. I'm backin' her, Nichols.
She'll do it too before she's through," he finished proudly.

"I haven't a doubt of it," said Peter soberly, though very much amused
at his employer's ingenuousness. Here then, was the weak spot in the
armor of this relentless millionaire--his daughter. The older one and
her child were dead. That accounted for the toys in the cabin. Peggy
sounded interesting'--if nothing else, for her vitality.

"I'd better see about this at once, then. If she should come----"

Peter rose and was about to leave the room when there was a sound of an
automobile horn and the sudden roar of an exhaust outside. He followed
McGuire to the window and saw a low red runabout containing a girl and a
male companion emerging from the trees. A man in the road was holding up
his hands in signal for the machine to stop and had barely time to leap
aside to avoid being run down. The car roared up to the portico, the
breathless man, who was Shad Wells, pursuing. Peter was glad that he had
had the good sense not to shoot. He turned to his employer, prepared for
either anger or dismay and found that McGuire was merely grinning and
chuckling softly as though to himself.

"Just like her!" he muttered, "some kid, that!"

Meanwhile Shad Wells, making a bad race of it was only halfway up the
drive, when at a signal and shout from McGuire, he stopped running,
stared, spat and returned to his post.

There was a commotion downstairs, the shooting of bolts, the sounds of
voices and presently the quick patter of feminine footsteps which
McGuire, now completely oblivious of Peter, went to meet.

"Well, daughter!"

"Hello, Pop!"

Peter caught a glimpse of a face and straggling brown hair, quickly
engulfed in McGuire's arms.

"What on earth----" began McGuire.

"Thought we'd give you a little touch of h