he surveys and contour maps all ready. As a matter of
fact I really could begin the office work at once--"

"For Heaven's sake don't do that! and don't say it!" exclaimed the young
fellow in dismay. "Father and Shiela and I are counting on this trip.
There's a butterfly or two I want to get at Ruffle Lake. Don't you think
it extremely necessary that you go over the entire territory?--become
thoroughly saturated with the atmosphere and--"

"Malaria?" suggested Hamil, laughing. "Of course, seriously, it will be
simply fine. And perhaps it is the best thing to do for a while. Please
don't mistake me; I _want_ to do it; I--I've never before had a
vacation like this. It's like a trip into paradise from the sordid
horror of Broadway. Only," he added slowly as they left the house and
started toward the luncheon party under the live-oaks, "I should like to
have your father know that I am ready to give him every moment of my
time."

"That's what he wants--and so do I," said young Cardross.... "Hello!
Here's Shiela back before us! I'd like to sit near enough to talk to
you, but Shiela is between us. I'll tell you after luncheon what we
propose to do on this trip."

A white servant seated Hamil on Mrs. Cardross's right; and for a while
that languid but friendly lady drawled amiable trivialities to him,
propounding the tritest questions with an air of pleased profundity,
replying to his observations with harmlessly complacent platitudes--a
good woman, every inch of her--one who had never known an unkindly act
or word in the circle of her own family--one who had always been
accustomed to honor, deference, and affection--of whom nothing more had
ever been demanded than the affections of a good wife and a good mother.

Being very, very stout, and elaborately upholstered, a shady hammock
couch suited her best; and as she was eternally dieting and was too
stout to sit comfortably, she never remained very long at table.

Gray escorted her houseward in the midst of the festivities. She nodded
a gracious apology to all, entered her wheel-chair, and was rolled
heavily away for her daily siesta.

* * * * *

Everybody appeared to be friendly to him, even cordial. Mrs. Acton
Carrick talked to him in her pretty, decisive, animated manner, a
feminine reflection of her father's characteristic energy and frankness.

Her younger sister, Cecile, possessed a drawl like her mother's.
Petite, distractingly prett