ed, slightly
inclining her head. "But now that Celia is coming, it would be as well
to have another man. It's such dreadfully short notice, though."

"I daresay your father could come, all right," Thorpe suggested. "I'd
rather have him than almost anyone else. Would you mind asking him--or
shall I?"

An abrupt silence marked this introduction of a subject upon which the
couple had differed openly. Thorpe, through processes unaccountable to
himself, had passed from a vivid dislike of General Kervick to a habit
of mind in which he thoroughly enjoyed having him about. The General
had been twice to High Thorpe, and on each occasion had so prolonged
his stay that, in retrospect, the period of his absence seemed
inconsiderable. The master now, thinking upon it in this minute of
silence, was conscious of having missed him greatly. He would not have
been bored to the extremity of threatening to go to London, if Kervick
had been here. The General was a gentleman, and yet had the flexible
adaptability of a retainer; he had been trained in discipline, and hence
knew how to defer without becoming fulsome or familiar; he was a man of
the world and knew an unlimited number of racy stories, and even if he
repeated some of them unduly, they were better than no stories at all.
And then, there was his matchless, unfailing patience in playing chess
or backgammon or draughts or bezique, whatever he perceived that the
master desired.

"If you really wish it," Edith said at last, coldly.

"But that's what I don't understand," Thorpe urged upon her with some
vigour. "If I like him, I don't see why his own daughter----"

"Oh, need we discuss it?" she broke in, impatiently. "If I'm an
unnatural child, why then I am one, and may it not be allowed to pass
at that?" A stormy kind of smile played upon her beautifully-cut lips
as she added: "Surely one's filial emotions are things to be taken for
granted--relieved from the necessity of explanation."

Thorpe grinned faintly at the hint of pleasantry, but he did not
relinquish his point. "Well--unless you really veto the thing--I think
I'd like to tell him to come," he said, with composed obstinacy. Upon
an afterthought he added: "There's no reason why he shouldn't meet the
Duke, is there?"

"No specific reason," she returned, with calm coolness of tone and
manner. "And certainly I do not see myself in the part of Madame Veto."

"All right then--I'll send him a wire," said Thorpe. His victory