s. But of course I had to have
some adequate explanation. I couldn't tell Angus I wanted to live on the
ranch to make love to his sister. Now, could I? So I merely let it be
understood that my remittances had stopped. May not have been exactly
cricket, but I can't see that I'm very much to blame. If I could see
Jean--"

"Not now. She refused to marry you till you were in a position to
support a wife. That's the bitter part of it."

"But I _am_ able to support one."

"Yes, but don't you see having refused to marry you until you had made a
little money she won't put herself in the position of doing so now for
fear you or somebody might think the money had something to do with it."

Chetwood took his bewildered head in his hands.

"O, my sainted Aunt Jemima!" he murmured. "In the picturesque language
of the country this sure beats--er--I mean it's a bit too thick for me.
She didn't approve of me because I was an idler and presumably a
remittance man. Very well. I cut off my income and became a hired man.
Then she wouldn't marry me because I was. Now she won't see me or speak
to me because I'm not. Kind lady, having been a girl yourself, will you
please tell me what I am to do about it?"

Faith laughed at his woebegone countenance. "The whole trouble is that
you weren't frank with her. What was play to you--a good joke--was the
most serious thing in life to her. While she was considering and
planning in earnest for the future you were laughing at her. Perhaps a
man can't appreciate it; but a woman finds such things hard to forgive."

"I'll apologize," Chetwood said. "I'll eat crow. Mrs. Angus, like an
angel, do help me with the future Lady Chet--er--I mean--"

"What!" Faith cried.

"Oh, Lord!" Chetwood ejaculated, "there go the beans. Nothing, nothing!
I don't know what I'm saying, really!"

"Don't you dare to deceive me!" Faith admonished sternly. "Lady
Chetwood! What do you mean?"

"But it's not my fault," the luckless young man protested. "I can't help
it. It's hereditary. When the old boy died--"

"What old boy?"

"My uncle, Sir Eustace. I was named after him. And I couldn't help
_that_."

"Do you mean to tell me," Faith accused him severely, "that on top of
all your deceptions you have a title? Oh, Jean will never forgive this!"

"But it's not much of a title," its owner palliated. "It's just a little
old one. Nothing gaudy about it, like these new brewers'. It's
considered quite respectable, really,