e thing I will not
permit even from them. It is the first time it has ever become necessary
to say this to you, sir. I hope it will be the last."

"Why, what's the matter, my son? I was only about to suggest that--"

"Well, don't do it. The one thing I will not permit is business
interference. I need no collaborator. Once--just once Paul made that
same mistake. He presumed to offer a suggestion, Paul--who couldn't
figure compound interest--offered me, Hamilton Burton, a financial
suggestion! I told him then as I tell you now that any human hand which
sticks itself into my affairs will be promptly broken off at the
wrist--no matter whose hand it is. That is the one possible thing that
could drive me to unkindness to any one of my own blood. In that I am
unshakable. I will have no interference. _I_ am the one financier in
this family, and I will submit to no trespassing upon my own field of
empire. Let's have that plainly understood."

He ended, and Tom Burton gazed dumbfounded at the anger which was slowly
dying out of his son's pupils and which had rung through his son's
words.

"You astonish me," he said slowly. "I had no idea of trespass--only of
assistance."

"Thank you. I have never yet felt the need of any man's assistance. In
my own jurisdiction, I admit no peers. I am sorry you forced me to speak
so strongly, but candor is best. Until I ask it no human being must
volunteer advice or criticism. Go on and play cards and amuse yourself
and spend what you like in doing it--but don't annoy me by trying to
make money. I won't have it. No--leave that whiskey alone--" He
peremptorily stretched out his hand, as his father reached again for the
decanter. "You've had enough for this evening. In another moment you
will be tendering additional useless information."

Again the bell rang, and in the library door he saw Mary Burton, radiant
in evening-dress, and the ermine of a long opera-cloak. Her smile was as
luminous as sunshine. Behind her--it suddenly struck Hamilton that the
sight of that particular face across her shoulder was becoming a chronic
accompaniment--stood Jefferson Edwardes.

Both of them were laughing--with a note of mutual understanding.

"Mary," announced her brother, "I want to have a dinner and a dance next
week. I want it to be the most memorable affair of the season. Are you
in for it?"

She looked at him with sudden amazement, and then her merriment broke
out in a series of silvery peals. Sh