for Christmas dinners, he accepted her commissions in the most
amiable spirit and his services were unfailingly satisfactory. He knew
perfectly well that most of the jobs she imposed upon him had been
politely but firmly declined by her busy husband, but this made no
difference to Archie, who had all the time in the world, and infinite
patience, and he rather enjoyed tracing express packages and matching
ribbons.

"The agent who's been looking up a summer house for us says this is an
unusual opportunity, as there are few places to let at Bailey Harbor and
this one is unexpectedly on the market. The owner is obliged to leave
just after settling in it, so it's all in perfect condition and if it
meets our needs we can go right up. Howard's simply swamped with
work--he's conducting some sort of investigation with night meetings and
that sort of thing--and we'd all appreciate it if you could run up there
for us."

The many preoccupations of his brother-in-law, who held a seat in
Congress and took his job seriously, were well known to Archie.
Featherstone was an important cog in the governmental machinery while
Archie had nothing on earth to do, so it was eminently fitting that he,
as an unattached and unemployed brother-in-law, should assume some of
Featherstone's domestic burdens. Archie had planned to leave for the
Canadian Rockies two days later, but as no urgent business called him in
that direction, he obligingly agreed to take a look at the Bailey Harbor
house that had been placed so providentially within reach of his sister.

"The owner belongs to that old New England Congdon family," Mrs.
Featherstone explained; "they date from the beginning of time, and some
of them are a trifle eccentric. You remember one of them--he must be the
father or an uncle of the owner of this house--Eliphalet Congdon, who
lives in Boston and is horribly rich but is always doing weird things.
There was a perfectly killing article in the paper just the other day
telling of his latest exploit, which was getting arrested for refusing
to allow them to check his umbrella at the Metropolitan Museum. They
thought, of course, that he was a crank who wanted to poke holes through
the pictures, and he made such a fuss that they had to arrest him and he
wouldn't give bail but had his lawyer get him out on a writ of habeas
corpus."

"The same philanthropist who had a bus built just like the Fifth Avenue
busses and wanted to run it himself to pick u