e
thing to the adoring parents of a dozen other girls that night. (The
Colonel was born in Tecumseh County, on our side of the Ohio, and just
plays at being a Kentuckian!) Mothers of daughters, watching the dance
with a jealous eye on their own offspring, whispered among themselves
that as likely as not Marian's tall, broad-shouldered cavalier was the
man chosen of all time to be her husband. He was her father's
confidential man, and nothing could stay his upward course.

Bassett saw it all and guessed what they were thinking. Sylvia flashed
across his vision now and then. He overheard people asking who she was,
and he caught the answers, that she was a girl Mrs. Owen had taken up; a
public school-teacher, they believed, the daughter of an old friend.
Sylvia, quite unconscious of this interest, saw that the figures she had
done so much toward planning were enacted without a hitch. The last one,
the Pergola, with real roses, if you must know, well deserved Colonel
Ramsay's compliment. "You can't tell," said the Colonel in his best
manner, "where the roses end and the girls begin!"

It was two o'clock when Harwood, after taking Mrs. Owen down to supper,
found himself free. He met Thatcher in the lower hall, muffled in
astrakhan and swearing softly to himself because his carriage had been
lost in the blizzard.

"Well; how are things going with you, young man?"

"Right enough. I'm tired and it's about bed-time for me."

"Haven't got House Bill Ninety-five in your pockets have you?" asked
Thatcher with a grin. "A reporter for the 'Advertiser' was in here
looking for you a minute ago. He said your committee had taken a vote
to-night and he wanted to know about it. Told him you'd gone home. Hope
you appreciate that; I'm used to lying to reporters. You see, my son, I
ain't in that deal. You understand? That bill was fixed up in Chicago,
and every corporation lawyer that does business in the old Hoosier State
has his eye on it. I'm not asking any questions; Lord, no! It's up to
you. Grand party; that's a nice girl of Bassett's. My wagon here? All
right. Good-night, Dan! Good-night, Bassett!"

Harwood turned and found himself face to face with Bassett, who was
loitering aimlessly about the hall.

"Good-evening, sir," he said, and they shook hands mechanically.

"How are you? Party about over?"

"I should like to speak to you to-night, Mr. Bassett. It need take but a
minute."

"Better now, if it's important," replied B