y into
the pantry, from which a sound which might have been a cough was
instantly heard.

"Yours is a strange but delightful home, Crane," observed Lefferts. "I
don't really recall ever having experienced anything quite like it."

"You refer, I fancy," replied Crane, "to the simple peace, the assured
confidence that--"

"That something unexpected is going to happen within the next ten
seconds."

Tucker and Reed, both absorbed in their private wrongs, were for an
instant like deaf men, but the latter having now dried his neck and as
much of his collar as was possible, showed signs of coming to, so that
Crane included both in the conversation.

"Lefferts and I were speaking," he said, slightly raising his voice, "of
the peculiar atmosphere that makes for the enjoyment of a home. What,
Mr. Reed, do you think is most essential?"

"Just one moment, Mr. Crane," said Reed. "I want to say a word more of
that other subject we were speaking of."

Crane's seat allowed him to see the pantry door before any one else
could. On it his eyes were fixed as he answered thoughtfully:

"Our last subject. Now, let me see, what was that?"

"It was the question of the propriety of--"

"Fish, sir?" said a gentle voice in Reed's ear. He groaned and helped
himself largely and in silence.

Lefferts, who was really kind-hearted, pitied his distress and decided
to change the topic.

"What a fine old house this is," he said, glancing around the
high-ceilinged room. "Who does it belong to?"

"It belongs," answered Tucker, "to a family named Revelly--a family who
held a highly honored position in the history of our country until they
took the wrong side in war."

"In this part of the country, sir," cried Reed, "we are not accustomed
to thinking it the wrong side."

Tucker bowed slightly.

"I believe that I am voicing the verdict of history and time," he
answered.

It was in remorse, perhaps, for having stirred up this new subject of
dispute that Lefferts now went on rapidly, too rapidly to feel his way.

"Well, this present generation seems to be an amusing lot. Eliot was
telling me about them last night. He says one of the girls is a perfect
beauty. Now, what was her name--such a pretty one. Oh, yes," he added,
slightly raising his voice, as his memory gave it to him, "Claudia."

"What?" said the cook.

"Nobody spoke to you, Jane-Ellen," said Crane, but his eyes remained
fixed on her long and meditatively as she handed the s