"All right! Yes, I know it's all right so far. That's what your mother used to say, back in Trumet, when she first started in. You begin by sayin' it's all right and pretty soon it IS all right. It ain't all right for me--it's all wrong. Why did you go to that meetin'?"

"I went because I wanted to see for myself. And I saw."

"Yes, you saw. And you heard, too, I'll bet you. Well, did you like it?"

"LIKE it! Daddy, tell me: There is another Woman's Club in Scarford, isn't there? This can't be the only one."

"No, it ain't. I believe there's another. A different one--a sensible one, so I've heard tell. Mrs. Fenholtz--you've heard me speak of her, Gertie; she's a fine woman--she belonged to the other one. She wanted Serena to join, but Annette Black had her innin's first, and after that 'twas all off."

"I see, I see."

"You see; but what are you goin' to do? Are you goin' to any more of them blessed meetin's?"

"I may. I probably shall. Daddy, dear, you must trust me. It is all right, I tell you."

Ordinarily this would have been enough. But to-night it was not. Captain Dan had spent some troubled hours since dinner and his nerves were on the ragged edge.

"All right!" he repeated impatiently. "Don't say that again. Is it all right for you to be gettin' into the same mess your mother is in? Is it all right for you to be talkin' about society and Chapters and--and I don't know what all? I did trust you, Gertie. I said so. I told Serena so this very afternoon. She was talkin' about Cousin Percy, she's always praisin' him up, and she said you liked him just as much as she did. He was a cultivated, superior young man, she said, and you recognized it. I laughed at her. I says, 'That's all right,' I says, 'but I wouldn't take too much stock in that. Gertie knows what she's up to. She's got some plan in her head, she told me so. She may pretend--'"

His daughter interrupted him.

"Father!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Daddy! did you tell Mother THAT?"

"Course I did! Why not? It's so, ain't it? What is the plan, Gertie?

What are you up to? You are pretendin', aren't you? Don't tell me you ain't! Don't tell me--"

"I shan't tell you anything. You don't deserve to be told. I'm out of patience with you, altogether. You deserve to be miserable. You'll spoil--But there! good-night."

"Gertie! Gertie! hold on. Don't--"

Serena's voice sounded at the head of the stairs.

"Gertie!" she called. "Who is it you're talking with? Is your father there? Why doesn't he come to bed?"

"He's coming, Mother, right away. So am I. Good-night, Daddy."

The next forenoon, as Azuba was blacking the stove, Gertrude entered the kitchen.

"Good-morning, Azuba," she said. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, yes, I'm alone."

"Where is Hapgood?"

"Land knows! Upstairs, lookin' out for that Hungerford man's clothes, I guess likely. He waits on that young critter as if he was the Prince of Wales. Well, you went Chapterin' and advancin' last night, I understand.

What did you think of it?"

"Think? I thought--Oh, Azuba!"

"Yup. It's 'oh, Azuba,' I guess. That's what I've been sayin' to myself for quite a spell. I'd have said it to your pa, too, if it would have done any good."

"It wouldn't. We mustn't say a word to him, or anyone else."

"I know. And yet, when I think of the way things are goin' at loose ends I have the shakes. Do you know what it's costin' to run this place the way it's run? I know. And I know, too, that n.o.body else seems to know or care. Your pa trusts everything to his wife, and she trusts everything to that Hapgood. She can't be bothered, she says, and Hapgood's such a capable buyer. Capable! he'll be rich as well as capable if it keeps on, and the rest of us'll be capable of the poorhouse. And there's Serena's health. She's gettin' more nervous all the time, and just wearin'

herself out with her papers and conventions and politics and bridge and society. My land! Don't talk to me! And it ain't no use to talk to her.

There's got to be somethin' more'n talk."

Gertrude nodded.

"So I think," she affirmed. "Azuba, I have a scheme. It may be the best idea in the world and it may be the worst, but I am going to risk it.

And you must help me. Will you?"

"Sartin sure I will!"

"And you won't tell a soul, not a living soul?"

"Not one, livin' or dead. You needn't look at me like that. I swan to mercy, I won't tell anybody."

"Good! Then listen."

Azuba listened, listened in silence. When her young mistress ceased speaking she shook her head slowly.

"Well," she observed, "it looks some like hoppin' out of the fryin' pan into the fire, but, even if it turns out that way, perhaps it's just as well to be roasted as fried. Humph! no, 'twon't do to tell anybody. I shan't, and you mustn't."

"I don't intend to."

"Um! Not even John Doane?"

"Well," doubtfully, "I may tell John later on. But I shall wait to tell him, I shan't write. He'll have to trust me, too."

"So he will. Fur's that goes, it's a good thing for men folks to learn to trust us women. If Labe, my husband, hadn't trusted me all these years, he'd have done some worryin', I cal'late. All right, Gertie, I'm with you till the last plank sinks. But," with a chuckle, "I'm kind of sorry for your pa. The medicine may cure us all in the end, but it'll be a hard dose for him to take, won't it?"

CHAPTER IX

Captain Dan's foundations were slipping from beneath him. His daughter's return had seemed to him like the first ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds and presaging the end of the storm. Now, it began to look as if the real storm was but beginning. Gertrude was apparently contracting the society and Chapter disease. Gertrude, upon whose good sense and diplomacy he had banked so heavily, was rapidly losing that sense. So far from influencing her mother to give up the "crazy notions" which were, Daniel firmly believed, wrecking their home and happiness, she was actually encouraging and abetting these notions.

The young lady was certainly spending a great deal of time with her mother and her mother's friends. When Mrs. Black and Mrs. Lake called for consultations concerning Chapter affairs, Gertrude took part in these consultations. Daniel, peeping into the library, saw the four heads together over the table, and heard his daughter's voice suggesting this and that. Invitations to various social functions came, and it was Gertrude who urged acceptance of these invitations. Captain Dan's pleas for quiet evenings together at home went for nought.

"You needn't go, Daddy," said Gertrude. "Mother and I know you don't care for such things. She and I can go without you."

"Go without me? The idea! Look pretty, wouldn't it, to have you two chasin' around nights all by yourself, without a man to look after you!"

"Oh, Cousin Percy will go with us. He is always obliging that way.

Cousin Percy will go, I am sure."