y overmuch, recently, of family and
ancestors, and have sometimes wondered what those boasted ancestors
might think were they permitted to see the ineffective descendants who
bear their names with neither achievement nor distinction. Now take my
own case. My family was well and bitterly known in Ireland as far back
as the ninth century. And at the end it availed only enough money to get
me through college and over to America. But I've done some things, and
with the conceit of the self-made man I'm fond of mentioning them.
Directly or indirectly, five thousand people depend on me for daily
bread. It's helped the world that I've lived. It's not what a man is
born to, I ask. Family? To hell with family! The question is: What have
you done?"

If the words had been spoken directly to him, they could not have stung
Frank more than they did. What had he done? It was Katrine's question,
and he recalled the lovable, vibrant little figure on the lodge steps
demanding of him if he had no desire to work, no wish to take part in
the great constructive affairs of men.

The group at the next table rose with an approval of Dermott's final
words, and, cigars lighted, were going their several ways, when the
Irishman turned and, apparently seeing Frank for the first time, came
toward him with a smile, hand outstretched.

"It's good to see you again, Ravenel!" he cried. "If you're alone I'll
smoke at your table for a minute or two." He waved a farewell to the men
who awaited him. It was a farewell as well as a dismissal. "You've heard
the news of Dulany, I suppose?"

"Only a few days ago. I have been fishing in the Canadian woods. I can
scarcely say how sorry I am."

"Ah, well! Ah, well! Ye did all ye could for him," said McDermott,
genially, "and it's probably for the best. Everything is, you know," he
added. "But I thought you might be interested to hear something of the
little girl. She has just sailed for France. I saw her off.
_Transatlantique_--yesterday. She has gone to Paris to study with
Josef."

Both men scrutinized each other steadily for a short time, but at the
game they were now playing Francis was by far the keener.

"Mother wrote me nearly six weeks ago about somebody's suggesting such a
plan for Miss Dulany. Wait a minute," he continued, feeling in his
pockets, "here's her letter now."

He gave his mother's screed to McDermott, determined that the Irishman
should not suspect the part which he had taken in Katrine