to _me_. I mean" (and she blushed divinely) "he is under
engagement to remain with my aunt and myself for some time. We are
making a tour on an automobile."

"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said the old fellow, as the American and
the English girl eyed each other--or each other's dresses. "I didn't
understand the arrangement. When you _are_ free, though," he went on,
turning to me, "you might just let me know. We're thinking of travelling
about for some time, and I've taken a liking to your ways. I'm at the
'Grand' here at Blois for the day, then we go on to Tours, and so by
easy stages to the Riviera. At Cannes, we shall settle down for a bit,
as my daughter has a friend who's expecting us to meet her there. But
I'll give you my card, with my home address on it, and a letter, or,
better still, a wire, would be forwarded." He then thanked Miss Randolph
for me, thanked me for myself, and, with a last flourish of trumpets,
handed me his card.

By this time we had "done" the castle, as conscientious Aunt Mary would
say, and were parting. All exchanged bows (Miss Randolph's and the
Lancashire girl's expressive of armed neutrality) and parted. I
thereupon glanced at the card and got a sensation.

"Mr. Jabez Barrow, Edenholme Hall, Liverpool," was what I read. That
conveys little to you, though as an address it has suggestive charm, but
to me it meant nothing less than a complication. Queer, what a little
place the world is! To make clear the situation I need only say, "The
Cotton King." Yes, that's it; you've guessed it. These Barrows are my
mother's newest proteges. Jabez Barrow is the "quaint, original old man"
she is so anxious for me to meet, and, indeed, has made arrangements
that I _should_ meet. Miss Barrow is the "beautiful girl with wonderful
eyes and such charming ways," who, in my dear mother's opinion, would be
so desirable as a daughter-in-law. Had not your doctors knocked our
plans on the head you would have had the pleasure of being introduced in
my company to the heiress, when I should have made you a present of my
chance to add to your own. As it is--well, I don't quite see that any
bother can come out of this coincidence, but I must keep a sharp lookout
for myself. I saw no Kodak in the hands of the gilded ones,
or--by-and-by--my mother might receive a shock. But perhaps they may
have possessed and concealed it.

Into the midst of my broodings over the card broke the voice of Miss
Randolph, in whose wak