her relations with
Jefferson appealed to her as so comical that she burst into
laughter in which the secretary joined.

"Then why did you remain here with me when the Senator went out
with Mr. Ryder, senior?" he demanded.

"To tell you that I cannot listen to your nonsense any longer,"
retorted the girl.

"What?" he cried, incredulously. "You remain here to tell me that
you cannot listen to me when you could easily have avoided
listening to me without telling me so. Kate, your coldness is not
convincing."

"You mean you think I want to listen to you?" she demanded.

"I do," he answered, stepping forward as if to take her in his
arms.

"Mr. Bagley!" she exclaimed, recoiling.

"A week ago," he persisted, "you called me Fitzroy. Once, in an
outburst of confidence, you called me Fitz."

"You hadn't asked me to marry you then," she laughed mockingly.
Then edging away towards the door she waved her hand at him
playfully and said teasingly: "Good-bye, Mr. Bagley, I am going
upstairs to Mrs. Ryder. I will await my father's return in her
room. I think I shall be safer."

He ran forward to intercept her, but she was too quick for him.
The door slammed in his face and she was gone.

Meantime Jefferson had proceeded upstairs, passing through long
and luxuriously carpeted corridors with panelled frescoed walls,
and hung with grand old tapestries and splendid paintings, until
he came to his mother's room. He knocked.

"Come in!" called out the familiar voice.

He entered. Mrs. Ryder was busy at her escritoire looking over a
mass of household accounts.

"Hello, mother!" he cried, running up and hugging her in his
boyish, impulsive way. Jefferson had always been devoted to his
mother, and while he deplored her weakness in permitting herself
to be so completely under the domination of his father, she had
always found him an affectionate and loving son.

"Jefferson!" she exclaimed when he released her. "My dear boy,
when did you arrive?"

"Only yesterday. I slept at the studio last night. You're looking
bully, mother. How's father?"

Mrs. Ryder sighed while she looked her son over proudly. In her
heart she was glad Jefferson had turned out as he had. Her boy
certainly would never be a financier to be attacked in magazines
and books. Answering his question she said:

"Your father is as well as those busybodies in the newspapers will
let him be. He's considerably worried just now over that new book
'The American O