"Sure, Mater!" he said, calmly. "How d'ye do, Caroline? 'Lo, Steve!"

The quartette shook hands. Mrs. Dunn sank creakingly into a chair and gazed about the room. Malcolm strolled to the window and looked out.

Stephen followed and stood beside him.

"My dear," said Mrs. Dunn, addressing Caroline, "how are you getting on?

How are your nerves? Is all the dreadful 'settling' over?"

"Very nearly, thank goodness."

"That's a mercy. I should certainly have been here yesterday to help you in superintending and arranging and so on, but I was suffering from one of my 'hearts,' and you know what _they_ are."

Everyone who knew Mrs. Corcoran Dunn was acquainted with her "hearts."

The attacks came, so she was accustomed to explain, from an impaired valve, and "some day"--she usually completed the sentence with upturned eyes and a resigned upward wave of the hand.

Her son turned from the window.

"I say, Mother," he explained, wearily, "I do wish you wouldn't speak of your vital organs in the plural. Anyone would imagine you were a sort of freak, like the two-headed boy at the circus. It's positively distressing."

Stephen laughed. He admired young Dunn immensely. Mrs. Dunn sighed.

"Don't, Malcolm, dear," she pleaded. "You sound so unfeeling. One not acquainted with your real kindness of heart--"

"Oh, drop it," interrupted Malcolm. "Let's omit the heart interest.

This isn't a clinic. I say, Steve, how do you like the new flat? It is a flat, isn't it?"

Stephen turned red. His sister colored and bit her lip. Mrs. Dunn hastened to the rescue.

"Horrors!" she exclaimed. "Malcolm, you really are insufferable. Flat!

Caroline, dear, you mustn't mind him. He will have his joke. Malcolm, apologize."

The command was sharp, and her son obeyed it.

"Beg your pardon, Steve," he said. "Yours, too, Caroline. I was only joking. There's a little beast of a bookkeeper down at the office who is forever talking of his 'nice flat in the Bronx.' It's a standing guy, you know. So far as I can see, these are pretty snug quarters. And attractively arranged, too. Your taste, Caroline, I'm betting."

Miss Warren, slightly mollified, bowed a.s.sent.

"I thought so," continued Malcolm. "No one but you would have known exactly the right spot for everything. Show us through, won't you?"

But Mrs. Dunn had other plans.

"Not now, Malcolm," she put in. "Caroline is tired out, I'm sure. A little fresh air will do her good. I was going to suggest that you and she and Stephen go for a short ride. Yes, really you must, my dear," she added, turning to the girl beside her. "Our car is at the door, it's not at all a bad afternoon, and the outing will be just what you need."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dunn," said Caroline, gratefully. "I should like to.

Indeed, I should. But we have been expecting a business call from Mr.

Graves, father's lawyer, and--"

"Oh, come on, Sis!" interrupted Stephen. "I'm dying to get out of this jail. Let old Graves wait, if he comes. We won't be long; and, besides, it's not certain that he is coming to-day. Come on!"

"I'm afraid I ought not, Steve. Mr. Graves may come, and--and it seems too bad to trouble our friends--"

"It's not trouble, it's pleasure," urged Mrs. Dunn. "Malcolm will be delighted. It was his idea. Wasn't it?" turning to her son.

"Oh, yes! certainly," replied the young gentleman. "Hope you'll come, Caroline. And you, of course, Steve. The blessed machine's been off its feed for a week or more, but Peter says he thinks it's all right again.

We'll give it a try-out on the Drive. Hope we have better luck than my last," with a laugh. "They nabbed us for speeding, and I had to promise to be a good boy or to be fined. Said we were hitting it at fifty an hour. We _were_ going some, that's a fact. Ha! ha!"

"But he won't be reckless when you're with him, Caroline," put in his mother. "You will go? That's so nice! As for Mr. Graves, I'll explain if he comes. Oh, no! _I'm_ not going! I shall remain here in this comfortable chair and rest until you return. It's exactly what my physician orders, and for once I'm going to obey him. My heart, you know, my poor heart--"

She waved her hand and raised her eyes. Miss Warren expostulated, but to no purpose. Mrs. Corcoran Dunn would _not_ go, but the others must. So, at last, they did. When Caroline and her brother had gone for their wraps, Mrs. Dunn laid a hand on her son's arm.

"Now mind," she whispered, "see if you can find out anything during the ride. Something more explicit about the size of their estate and who the guardian is to be. There are all sorts of stories, you know, and we _must_ learn the truth very soon. Don't appear curious, but merely friendly. You understand?"

"Sure, Mater," was the careless answer. "I'll pump."

The two departed, leaving their lady visitor ensconced in the comfortable chair. She remained in it for perhaps five minutes. Then she rose and sauntered about the room. She drifted into the drawing-room, returning a moment later and sauntering casually toward the open desk by the fireplace. There were papers and letters scattered about this desk, and these she turned over, glancing toward the door to be sure no one was coming. The letters were, for the most part, messages of sympathy from friends of the Warren family. Hearing an approaching step, she hastily returned to the chair.

Edwards, the butler, entered the library and replenished the fire. Mrs.

Dunn languidly accosted him.

"Ah--er--Edwards," she said, "you are--er--growing familiar with your new home?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Edwards, politely.

"It must seem--er--small compared to the other."

"Smaller; yes, ma'am."

"But very snug and comfortable."

"Yes, ma 'am."

"It is fortunate that Miss Warren and her brother have the aid of such a--an old servant of the family."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Is Miss Caroline managing her own affairs?"

"Apparently so. Yes, ma'am."

"I presume, however, a guardian has been appointed? With an estate such as the late Mr. Warren _must_ have left, some responsible person would be, of course, necessary."

She paused. Edwards, having arranged the logs to his liking, brushed the dust from his hands.

"I don't know, ma'am, I'm sure," he said. "Neither Miss Caroline nor Mr.

Stephen have spoken with me concerning the family affairs."

Mrs. Corcoran Dunn straightened, with hauteur.

"I think that was the doorbell," she remarked, a trifle sharply. "If it should be Mr. Graves, the attorney, you may show him into the library here."