es, I do mean just exactly that--seriously!"

Appleton tugged at his mustache and puckered his forehead.

"We might make up a party," he mused. "I'll speak to Ross in the
morning."

The little gray-haired woman stepped lightly around the table, and,
seating herself on his lap, captured his big fingers in her own.

"How many times must I tell you not to pull your mustache, dear? Now,
listen; I have a plan. There will be Mary Sheridan and Ross and Ethel
Manton--you know she promised us a visit this fall, and I expect her
any day now. A trip into the woods will do her a world of good, poor
girl. She has had lots of responsibility thrust upon her since brother
Fred died, with young Charlie to look out for, and the care of that big
house.

"Mrs. Potter, you know she lives next door to Ethel, writes me that she
does not believe the girl is happy--that this St. Ledger, or whatever
his name is, that she is reported engaged to, is not the kind of a man
for Ethel at all--and, that she hasn't seemed herself for a year--some
unhappy love affair--the man was a scamp, or something--so this trip
will be just what she needs. Charlie will be with her, of course, and
we can invite that young Mr. Holbrooke; you have met him, that nice
young man--the VanNesses' nephew.

"We will go away up into the big woods where you men can hunt to your
heart's delight; and we women will stay around the camp and do the
cooking and smell the woods and chew spruce gum. Oh, Hubert, won't it
be just _grand_?"

Appleton caught something of his wife's enthusiasm.

"It sure will, little girl! But what's _he_ for?"

"What is who for?"

"This Holbrooke person. Where does he come in on this?"

"Why, for Ethel, of course! Goose! Don't you see that if Ethel is not
happy--if she is not really in love with this St. Ledger--and she
spends two or three weeks in the same camp with a nice young man like
Mr. Holbrooke--well, there's no place like the woods for romance, dear;
you see, I know. And he has money, too," she added.

Appleton suddenly lifted his wife to her feet and began pacing up and
down the room.

"Money!" he exclaimed. "He never earned a cent in his life."

"But he is the VanNess heir!"

"Old VanNess made his money selling corsets and ribbons."

"Why, dear, what difference does that make? I am sure the VanNesses are
among----"

"I don't care who they're among, or what they're among!" interrupted
her husband. "We don't want any niece of