The captain was equally sure. Cousin Percy was altogether too willing to go anywhere, at any time, provided Miss Dott went also. This very obvious fact did not add to Daniel's peace of mind. Rather than have his family escorted by its newest member, he resolved to sacrifice his own inclinations and go himself.

Miss Canby--the blonde young woman who played the piano at the Black home on the night of the dinner--issued invitations for an "At Home" in her apartments. All the Dott household--Mr. Hungerford included--were invited. Mrs. Black, who came to call, was enthusiastic. Her jealousy of Serena, which had manifested itself on the night of the latter's appointment as an Atterbury delegate, had apparently disappeared. She was again the dear friend and counselor, with all the old cordiality and a good deal of the old condescension.

This condescension, however, was confined to Serena and Captain Dan.

Toward Cousin Percy she was extremely polite, but never patronizing, perhaps because that gentleman was so languidly at ease in her presence.

He listened to her conversation with apparent interest, but his answers, gravely delivered, were at times a trifle sarcastic. She seemed to be a bit afraid of Cousin Percy, afraid and somewhat suspicious.

To Gertrude she was gushingly friendly, overwhelmingly so, and the friendship was, to all outward seeming, returned. Daniel, who had gathered from his daughter's previous remarks that she disliked the great Annette, was surprised and dismayed.

"For goodness sakes, Gertie," he demanded, "what did you kiss her for?

Anybody'd think she was somebody near and dear that you hadn't laid eyes on for ten years. And she was here only yesterday. Do you love her so much you have to hug her every time you see her?"

Gertrude laughed. "Do you think I do?" she asked.

"I don't know what to think. It's a mighty sudden love, that's all I've got to say. Do you want her here ALL the time?"

"Well, when she is here I know where she is."

"So does anybody within hearin'. I never saw such a change in a person as there is in you. And all inside of a week. You used to go out of the room when that Black woman came into it. Now you kiss her when she comes."

"No, Daddy; I kiss her when she goes."

With which puzzling statement the interview ended.

B. Phelps accompanied his wife when the latter called to discuss the Canby invitation. His coming was unusual, the Dotts had seen comparatively little of him since their arrival in Scarford. Daniel was glad he came. Black and he were not altogether congenial; the captain would not have chosen him as an intimate; but at least there would be someone present with whom he could exchange a word. As B. Phelps did not care for Chapters and "At Homes" any more than he did, there was that bond between them.

Mr. Hungerford was, for a wonder, not in when the callers came. He went out very little nowadays, except when Miss Dott and her mother went; then he was always ready to go.

Annette declared that the Canby "At Home" was certain to be a most unusual affair. "So--er--well, so different," she explained. "Miss Canby is a very unusual woman, a unique woman, and her affairs are always as unique as she is. So truly Bohemian. I adore Bohemians, don't you, Gertrude?"

Gertrude said she did. "I don't know that I've met a great many," she added, "but I'm sure they must be very enjoyable."

"Oh, they are! And Miss Canby is one. The very first time I attended a gathering at her home I said to myself: 'THIS is true Bohemianism.'"

Captain Dan was astonished.

"Why!" he exclaimed, "Miss Canby's folks came from Down-East somewheres--Bangor, Maine, I think 'twas. She told me so, herself."

The remark was received in various ways, by various individuals. Serena frowned; Gertrude bit her lip; B. Phelps Black burst into a roar of laughter.

"I did not mean my statement literally, Captain Dott," explained Annette in gracious toleration. "But when people are independent and free from the usual conventionalities, as Miss Canby is, we speak of them as Bohemians. It is an--er--a term among artists and musicians, I believe."

Daniel understood little or nothing of this. He understood perfectly well, however, that he had blundered somehow, a glance at his wife's face told him that. Gertrude smiled at him kindly and observed: "Father is like myself, his acquaintance in Bohemia has been limited."

Captain Dan muttered that he guessed likely that was so, adding that he had an Armenian steward once who was a pretty good fellow. Then he subsided. Serena took up the conversation, changing the subject to the ever fruitful one of her beloved Chapter. In a moment the two ladies were deep in a discussion concerning the election of National officers for the Legion, an election which was to take place in Boston a few months later. Gertrude joined in the discussion, a proceeding which her father noticed with apprehension.

Mr. Black accepted an invitation to smoke, and he and Captain Dan went into the library. After the cigars were lighted, B. Phelps, lowering his voice so as not to be heard in the adjoining room, said suddenly:

"Dan, is that daughter of yours going off her head like the rest of the females?"

Daniel was indignant.

"Off her head!" he repeated. "Gertie! She's as smart and sensible a girl as ever lived. I say so, even if she is my daughter. What are you talkin' about?"

Mr. Black waved his hand. "Keep your hair on, Dan," he counselled pleasantly. "I like Gertrude, always have. I always thought she was as sensible as she is pretty, and that's saying something. But what has got into her since she got here in Scarford? You used to tell me she didn't care anything for society and all the rest of it; now she seems to be as daffy as her--well, as my wife, if you like that better."

"Daffy! See here, Barney Black, I--"

"Hush! Don't begin to yell or we'll have that hen convention in the parlor down on us. I'm not finding any fault with your daughter. I'm only talking for her good and yours. What does she care about this confounded Chapter foolishness?"

"She don't care nothin' about it."

"Doesn't she? She seems to be mighty interested in that talk they're having in there now. And she was as joyful as the rest of 'em over this Canby woman's 'At Home.'"

The captain was quite aware of the apparent joy; and Gertrude's growing interest in her mother's Chapter and its members was too obvious to be denied. Nevertheless, he tried to deny it.

"Oh, that's nothin'," he declared. "She and Serena have always been plannin' together over things, and this Chapter's like the rest, that's all. As for the 'At Home,' why--why--well, Gertie's young, and young folks generally like a good time."

"A good time! Great Scott! Have you ever been to that Canby apartment and seen the crowd that--No, of course you haven't. Dan, if my wife heard me she'd take my head off, but you're an old friend of mine and I like your daughter. Listen to me: Don't let Gertrude go to that 'At Home' if you can help it."

"Don't let her! How am I goin' to help it?"

"I don't know. Keep her in the house. Lock the door and hide the key.

I would. If she was my daughter I'd--I'd chloroform her. Hanged if I wouldn't!"

Captain Dan's indignation was rapidly changing to alarm.

"See here, Barney," he demanded, "what are you tryin' to say, anyhow?

What's wrong with this Miss Canby? Out with it."

"Nothing's wrong with her, so far as I know. And yet there isn't anything right. She's good enough, I guess, and she can play the piano like a streak, but she's a fool. She and the gang she is with are bleached-haired, frowzy-headed idiots, who hope they are Bohemians--whatever that is. They like to do what they call unusual things; they like to shock people--think it's smart. Don't let your wife or Gertrude--Gertie, especially--get in with that crowd. They don't belong there. And there's something else."

He hesitated. Daniel, trembling with anxiety, urged him to continue.

"What is it?" he begged. "What is the somethin' else?"

"Oh, nothing. It isn't my business anyhow. I ought to keep still."

"Keep still! After sayin' as much as you have? You go ahead or I'll shake it out of you one word at a time. Heave ahead now! I'm waitin'."

"Well, then, don't get mad. Remember I'm saying it merely as a friend.

Is Gertie engaged to be married?"

"Sartin she is. To a fine fellow, too. What of it?"

"Why, this: If she is engaged why is she trotting about with this precious cousin of yours--this Percy Hungerford?"