lp serve in her father's. No, sir, it's just a fool's luck, gettin'
the first taste and leavin' the rest to others."

"I'm not sure that it's the worst kind of luck," returned Demorest,
with persistent gravity; "and I suppose he's satisfied with it." But so
heterodox an opinion only irritated his antagonist the more, especially
as he noticed that the handsome woman in the back seat appeared to be
interested in the conversation, and even sympathetic with Demorest. The
man was in the main a good-natured fellow and loyal to his friends; but
this did not preclude any virulent criticism of others, and for a moment
he hated this bronze-faced stranger, and even saw blemishes in the
handsome woman's beauty. "That may be YOUR idea of an Eastern man,"
he said bluntly, "but I kin tell ye that Californy ain't run on those
lines. No, sir." Nevertheless, his curiosity got the better of his ill
humor, and as the coach at last pulled up at the cross-road for Demorest
to descend he smiled affably at his departing companion.

"You allowed just now that you'd bin five years away. Whar mout ye have
bin?"

"In Europe," said Demorest pleasantly.

"I reckoned ez much," returned his interrogator, smiling significantly
at the other passengers. "But in what place?"

"Oh, many," said Demorest, smiling also.

"But what place war ye last livin' at?"

"Well," said Demorest, descending the steps, but lingering for a moment
with his hand on the door of the coach, "oddly enough, now you remind me
of it--at Hymettus!"

He closed the door, and the coach rolled on. The passenger reddened,
glanced indignantly after the departing figure of Demorest and
suspiciously at the others. The lady was looking from the window with a
faint smile on her face.

"He might hev given me a civil answer," muttered the passenger, and
resumed his novel.

When the coach drew up before Carter's Hotel the lady got down, and the
curiosity of her susceptible companions was gratified to the extent of
learning from the register that her name was Horncastle.

She was shown to a private sitting-room, which chanced to be the one
which had belonged to Mrs. Barker in the days of her maidenhood, and
was the sacred, impenetrable bower to which she retired when her daily
duties of waiting upon her father's guests were over. But the breath of
custom had passed through it since then, and but little remained of its
former maiden glories, except a few schoolgirl crayon drawings on