George? You've done
a lot you said you would that day."

"I've scarcely started," George answered. "I'm a dismal failure. Perhaps
I'll brace up."

"You're hard to satisfy," Lambert said.

George dug at the ground with his heel.

"All the greater necessity to find ultimate satisfaction," he grumbled.

Lambert glanced at him inquiringly.

"I suppose," George continued, "I ought to thank you and your sister for
not reminding your parents what I was some years ago, for not blurting
it out to a lot of other people."

"You've shown me," Lambert said, "it would have been vicious to have put
any stumbling blocks in your way. Driggs is right. He usually is. You're
a very great man."

But George shook his head, and accompanied Lambert back to the house
with the despondency of failure.

Sylvia and Blodgett were back, lounging with Mr. and Mrs. Planter about
a tea table which servants had carried to a sunny spot on the lawn. At
sight of George Sylvia's colour heightened. Momentarily she hesitated to
take his offered hand, then bowed to the presence of the others.

"You didn't tell me, Lambert, you were bringing any one."

Blodgett's welcome was cordial enough to strike a balance.

"Never see anything of you these days, George. He makes money, Mrs.
Planter, too fast to bother with an old plodder like me. Thank the Lord
I've still got cash in his firm."

That he should ever call that quiet, assured figure mother-in-law! Mrs.
Planter, however, showed no displeasure. She commenced to chat with
Lambert. Sylvia, George reflected, might with profit have borrowed some
of her mother's serenity. Still she managed to entertain him over the
tea cups as if he had been any casual, uninteresting guest.

That hour, nevertheless, furnished George an ugly ordeal, for Blodgett's
attentions were perpetual, and Sylvia appeared to appreciate them,
treating him with a consideration that let through at least that
affection the man had surprisingly drawn from so many of his
acquaintances.

A secretary interrupted them, hurrying from the house with an abrupt
concern stamped on his face, standing by awkwardly as if not knowing how
to commence.

"What is it, Straker?" Mr. Planter asked.

"Mr. Brown's on the 'phone, sir. I think you'd better come. He said he
didn't want to bother you until he was quite sure. There seems no doubt
now."

"Of what, Straker?" Mr. Planter asked. "Wouldn't it have kept through
tea time?"

The secretary seem