became engaged for--for the week, anyhow."

"I see," said I, dryly. "You played the farce for a limited engagement."

"We joked about it a great deal, and I--well, I got into the spirit of
it--one must at house-parties, you know," said Goward, deprecatingly.

"I suppose so," said I.

"I got into the spirit of it, and Miss Talbert christened me Young
Lochinvar, Junior," Goward went on, "and I did my best to live up to
the title. Then at the end of the week I was suddenly called home, and
I didn't have any chance to see Miss Talbert alone before leaving,
and--well, the engagement wasn't broken off. That's all. I never saw
her again until I came here to meet the family. I didn't know she was
Peggy's aunt."

"So that in reality you WERE engaged to both Peggy and Miss Talbert at
the same time," I suggested. "That much seems to be admitted."

"I suppose so," groaned Goward. "But not seriously engaged, Mr. Price. I
didn't suppose she would think it was serious--just a lark--but when she
appeared that night and fixed me with her eye I suddenly realized what
had happened."

"It was another case of 'the woman tempted me and I did eat,' was it,
Goward?" I asked.

Goward's pale face Hushed, and he turned angrily.

"I haven't said anything of the sort," he retorted. "Of all the unmanly,
sneaking excuses that ever were offered for wrong-doing, that first of
Adam's has never been beaten."

"You evidently don't think that Adam was a gentleman," I put in, with a
feeling of relief at the boy's attitude toward my suggestion.

"Not according to my standards," he said, with warmth.

"Well," I ventured, "he hadn't had many opportunities, Adam hadn't. His
outlook was rather provincial, and his associations not broadening.
You wouldn't have been much better yourself brought up in a zoo.
Nevertheless, I don't think myself that he toed the mark as straight as
he might have."

"He was a coward," said Goward, with a positiveness born of conviction.
And with that remark Goward took his place in my affections. Whatever
the degree of his seeming offence, he was at least a gentleman himself,
and his unwillingness to place any part of the blame for his conduct
upon Aunt Elizabeth showed me that he was not a cad, and I began to
feel pretty confident that some reasonable way out of our troubles was
looming into sight.

"How old are you, Goward?" I asked.

"Twenty-one," he answered, "counting the years. If you count the last
week by the