well, never better in her life, and
that he was delighted to meet a son of his old friend--then, turning to
the others, immediately forgot Jack's existence, and for the time being
his daughter, in the discussion still going on around him.

The young fellow settled himself in his seat and looked about him--at
the smoke-stained ceiling, the old portraits and quaint fittings and
furniture--more particularly at the men. He would have liked to talk to
Ruth's father a little longer, but he felt dazed and ill at ease--out of
his element, somehow--although he remembered the same kind of people at
his father's house, except that they wore different clothes.

But Peter did not leave him long in meditation. There were other
surprises for him upstairs, in the small dining-room opening out of
the library, where a long table was spread with eatables and
drinkables--salads, baby sausages, escaloped oysters, devilled crabs and
other dishes dear to old and new members. Here men were met standing in
groups, their plates in their hands, or seated at the smaller tables,
when a siphon and a beer bottle, or a mug of Bass would be added to
their comfort.

It was there the Scribe met him for the second time, my first being the
Morris dinner, when he sat within speaking distance. I had heard of him,
of course, as Peter's new protege--indeed, the old fellow had talked of
nothing else, and so I was glad to renew the acquaintance. I found him
to be like all other young fellows of his class--I had lived among his
people, and knew--rather shy, with a certain deferential air toward
older people--but with the composure belonging to unconscious youth--no
fidgeting or fussing--modest, unassertive--his big brown eyes under
their heavy lashes studying everything about him, his face brightening
when you addressed him. I discovered, too, a certain indefinable charm
which won me to him at once. Perhaps it was his youth; perhaps it was a
certain honest directness, together with a total lack of all affectation
that appealed to me, but certain it is that not many minutes had passed
before I saw why Peter liked him, and I saw, too, why he liked Peter.

When I asked him--we had found three empty seats at a table--what
impressed him most in the club, it being his first visit, he answered
in his simple, direct way, that he thought it was the note of
good-fellowship everywhere apparent, the men greeting each other as if
they really meant it. Another feature was