me recognition of their meeting--in
the light touching of hands as though the symbol of ceremony, at least,
was due to him, to herself, and to the occasion.

Luncheon at Silverside was anything but a function--with the children at
table and the dogs in a semicircle, and the nurses tying bibs and
admonishing the restless or belligerent, and the wide French windows
open, and the sea wind lifting the curtains and stirring the cluster of
wild flowers in the centre of the table.

Kit-Ki's voice was gently raised at intervals; at intervals some
grinning puppy, unable to longer endure the nourishing odours, lost
self-control and yapped, then lowered his head, momentarily overcome
with mortification.

All the children talked continuously, unlimited conversation being
permitted until it led to hostilities or puppy-play. The elders
conducted such social intercourse as was possible under the conditions,
but luncheon was the children's hour at Silverside.

Nina and Eileen talked garden talk--they both were quite mad about their
fruit-trees and flower-beds; Selwyn, Gerald, and Boots discussed
stables, golf links, and finally the new business which Selwyn hoped to
develop.

Afterward, when the children had been excused, and Drina had pulled her
chair close to Lansing's to listen--and after that, on the veranda,
when the men sat smoking and Drina was talking French, and Nina and
Eileen had gone off with baskets, trowels, and pruning-shears--Selwyn
still continued in conference with Boots and Gerald; and it was plain
that his concise, modest explanation of what he had accomplished in his
experiments with Chaosite seriously impressed the other men.

Boots frankly admitted it: "Besides," he said, "if the Lawn people are
so anxious for you to give them first say in the matter I don't see why
we shouldn't have faith in it--enough, I mean, to be good to ourselves
by offering to be good to you, Phil."

"Wait until Austin comes down--and until I've tried one or two new
ideas," said Selwyn. "Nothing on earth would finish me quicker than to
get anybody who trusted me into a worthless thing."

"It's plain," observed Boots, "that although you may have been an army
captain you're no captain of industry--you're not even a non-com.!"

Selwyn laughed: "Do you really believe that ordinary decency is
uncommon?"

"Look at Long Island," returned Boots. "Where does the boom of worthless
acreage and paper cities land investors when it explodes?