laughed; Hamil in excellent humour went off to dress. Everybody
seemed to be in particularly good spirits that evening, but later, after
dinner, Gray spoke complainingly of the continued absence of his father.

"As for Acton Carrick, he's the limit," added Gray disgustedly. "He
hasn't been here this winter except for a day or two, and then he took
the train from Miami straight through to New York. I say, Hamil, you'll
look him up and write us about him, won't you?"

Shiela looked at Hamil.

"Do you understand anything about financial troubles?" she asked in a
bantering voice.

"I've had some experience with my own," he said.

"Well, then, what is the matter with the market?"

"Shall I whisper it?"

"If you are prepared to rhyme it. I dare you!"

It was the rule of the house that anybody was privileged to whisper at
table provided they put what they had to communicate into rhyme.

So he thought busily a moment, then leaned over very gravely and
whispered close to her ear:

"Tis money makes the market go;
When money's high the market's low;
When money's low the market's right,
And speculators sleep at night.
But, dear, there is another mart,
Where ticks the ticker called my heart;
And there exhaustless funds await,
To back my bankrupt trust in Fate;
For you will find, as I have found,
The old, old logic yet is sound,
And love still makes the world go round."

"I always knew it," said Shiela contemptuously.

"Knew what, dear?" asked her mother, amused.

"That Mr. Hamil writes those sickening mottoes for Christmas crackers."

"There are pretty ones in them--sometimes," said Cecile, reminiscently
spearing a big red strawberry which resembled the popular and
conventional conception of a fat human heart.

Gray, still serious, said: "Unless we are outside of the danger zone I
think father ought to teach me something about business."

"If we blow up," observed Cecile, "I'll do clever monologues and support
everybody. I'd like that. And Shiela already writes poetry--"

"Nonsense!" said Shiela, very pink.

"Shiela! You do!"

"I did in school--" turning pinker under Hamil's tormenting gaze.

"And you do yet! I found an attempt on the floor--in your flowing
penmanship," continued the pitiless younger sister. "What is there to
blush about? Of course Phil and I were not low enough to read it, but
I'll bet it was about somebody we all know! Do you want to bet--Garr