don't count for anything. He says Mr. Bangs
considers him a figurehead, and that he'd rather be selling shoestrings
for himself than be in partnership with him."

"Yes, and if I let him go that's what he _would_ be doing," said Madam
bitterly.

"Mr. Chester don't think so," persisted Quin; "he says Mr. Ranny's got a
lot of ability."

"Don't quote that sissified Francis Chester to me. He may be a good
man--I suppose he is; but I can't abide the sight of him. He goes around
holding one hand in the other as if he were afraid he'd spill it! What
did you say he said about Ranny?"

"He said he had ability; that if he was on his own in the country some
place----"

"'On his own'!" Madam's contempt was great. "He hasn't _got_ any own.
He's just like the girls--no force or decision about any of them. Their
father wasn't like that; I am sure _I'm_ not. What's the matter with
them, anyhow?"

Quin looked her straight in the eyes. "Do you want to know, honest?"

Disconcerting as it was to have an oratorical question taken literally,
Madam's curiosity prompted her to nod her head.

"The same thing's the matter with them," said Quin, with brutal
frankness, "that's the matter with your leg. They've been broken and kept
in the cast too long."

Then, before he could get the berating he surely deserved, he was off
down the stairs, disturbing the silence of the house with his cheerful
whistle.

At breakfast the next morning he scented trouble. Until now he had made
little headway with the two sisters, having been too much occupied in
storming the fortress of Madam's regard to concern himself with the
outlying districts. But this morning he met with an even colder reception
than usual. In vain he fired off his best jokes: Miss Enid remained pale
and languid, and Miss Isobel presided over the coffee-pot as if it had
been a funeral urn. A crisis was evidently pending, and he determined to
meet it half way.

"Is Queen Vic mad at me?" he asked suddenly, leaning forward on his
folded arms and smiling with engaging candor.

Miss Isobel started to pour the cream into the sugar-bowl, but caught
herself in the act.

"If you mean my mother," she said with reproving dignity, "she has asked
me to tell you--that is, we all think it best----"

"For me to go?" Quin finished it for her. "Now, look here, Miss Isobel;
you can fire me, but you know you can't fire the furnace! Who is going to
stay here at night? Who is going to carry Madam u