two days. His sister tells me that she has worked on him for a week. He will listen to nobody."

"Quite right," said the Doctor emphatically. "The establishment of his good name should be his primary consideration. 'The purest treasure mortal times afford is spotless reputation.' I am more gratified than I can say that Donald is taking this course. He is justifying my persistent belief in his integrity. Once cleared by a jury the ghost of that unfortunate affair will, I trust, be laid forever."

"It is not so certain that he will be cleared," Mr. Gooch said, taking his accustomed seat at the table, with a solicitous eye on the door where Myrtella would appear with the soup. "I shall do my best for him, but I have my doubts."

"You say he has been here a week?" the Doctor asked. "Strange he has not been in to see us. He was always fond of the children, and professed a certain regard, I believe, for me. I want him to meet Mrs. Queerington."

There was a pause, during which Noah Wicker turned a surprised glance upon the hostess.

"I know Mr. Morley," she said steadily, while the color mounted to her cheeks. "I knew him when he was with Noah at the farm."

"Indeed," said the Doctor. "I must have forgotten your mentioning it. I am afraid, Mr. Wicker, we've been neglecting you to-night in our concern over Donald's problems. But it is a subject in which you are doubtless equally interested?"

Noah started to reply, but realizing that the company was looking at him, forgot what he was going to say and bowed instead.

At this juncture the thing of all others that Miss Lady dreaded, occurred. Donald Morley was announced by Myrtella in tones whose accents implied that nothing could now prevent the ice cream from giving out.

"Well, well!" cried the Doctor, rising and greeting him with outstretched hand, "a hearty welcome home. You know everybody here, I believe? Even Mrs. Queerington tells me she has met you. And this is Hattie. I am quite sure you were not prepared to see her so tall."

Donald, retaining Hattie's hand, made the round of greetings.

"Where are Connie and Bert?"

"Connie is dressing for a party, and poor old Bert is struggling with the chickenpox," Miss Lady managed to say as she busied herself with the coffee cups.

"And now tell us about yourself," said the Doctor, drawing a chair for Donald beside his own. "You will pardon my cushions, but I am still something of an invalid, and the little lady at the end of the table insists upon spoiling me. You knew, of course, of my accident, some two years ago?"

"Not until I got home," Donald said without looking up. "I hope you've gotten well again?"

"Oh, no, I shall never be well. The physicians assured me of that from the first, but they also said that with care and proper conservation of my energies I would probably live to a ripe old age. I do not suppose you have ever had to resist the temptation to overwork, Donald?"

Donald smiled and puckered his brow.

"He has plenty of work cut out for him now!" growled Mr. Gooch, whose mind having been temporarily diverted by the salad now rushed back to the trial.

"Work for an admirable cause," said the Doctor. "Mr. Gooch has just been telling us of your decision, Donald, and I cannot express my gratification at your course of action."

"Thank you, Doctor! That's the first encouragement I've had. My family seem to think I am a lunatic, and even my lawyer, here, is taking the case under protest."

"The value of a good name," began the Doctor, then remembering that he had delivered himself at length on that subject earlier in the evening, he broke off by inquiring if Donald had been doing any writing during his absence.

"Oh! yes, I am always scribbling. It doesn't amount to anything though."

"Yes, it does, too!" declared Hattie, to whom Cousin Don had always been a hero. "Mr. Decker told Gerald Ivy that you did all the best things in the articles he sent home for the syndicate."

"I suspected it!" said the Doctor. "I thought I recognized your humorous view-point in that first article on China. I remarked to my wife at the time that you had visualized the scene, for the reader, exactly as you had seen it."

"But I didn't!" said Donald. "I wrote that story a month before we reached China. Decker hit on the idea of getting all the articles written while we were crossing the Pacific, so we wouldn't have to bother about them after we landed. We used to get up on the boat-deck and turn them off like hot cakes. That's all foolishness about my doing the best parts. Why, Decker is a wonder! He 's reducing the thing to a science; he doesn't even need a pen or a pencil; just plenty of guide books, a paper of pins, and a pair of scissors. Lapboard literature, he calls it. He spent most of his time trimming my effusions down to measurements."

"That is because you indulged your imagination. It is a drug in the journalistic market, but it is invaluable elsewhere. Why not try something for the magazines? Choose a congenial theme and give your fancy full rein. It will be interesting to see what comes of it."

Connie's entrance here interrupted further conversation. She had neglected no detail of her toilet, and the result was a pink and white confection ready for conquest.

"We thought you were never coming to see us, Cousin Don," she said, half pouting, and giving a side glance at Noah Wicker. "You 've been home a whole week!"

"Heavens, Connie! I didn't expect to find you so grown up. How long have you been out?"

"I 've never been in," she said, releasing her hand and smiling consciously. "Aren't you coming to the Bartrums' party to-night?"

"No, I'm not in a mood for parties these days."

"But I 've never had a chance to dance with you since you taught me to waltz."

"Horrible deprivation! Can you still do the cake walk I taught you?"

"Yes, and so can Miss Lady! Isn't it funny? She says it 's the one the darkeys dance at the picnics up at Thornwood! Come on, Miss Lady; let 's show them!"

"Constance, Constance!" remonstrated the Doctor gently, as the girl seized Miss Lady's hands and tried to draw her to her feet. "You see, Donald, the children forget that Mrs. Queerington is anything but a play-fellow, and sometimes--" he rose and laid a hand on her shoulder, "sometimes she forgets, too."

Donald pushed back his chair abruptly.

"I think I'll come to the party, Connie, after all. I'll run up to Decker's room at the hotel and change my togs. You will save me a waltz or two?"

"All of them, if you like! It's going to be the jolliest dance of the season, everybody says so. Change your mind, Miss Lady, and come! I don't see how you can hesitate when you remember the time you had at the Sequins'! Gerald is coming for me; we can all go down together."

Miss Lady needed only the spark of Connie's enthusiasm to start all the forbidden fires in her. Her eyes flew to the Doctor's face.

He smiled as he caught her eager look. "Go with them, my dear, if you like. It is quite a natural instinct, I believe, to celebrate the first night of the New Year."

"But you, will you take me? Just this once, Doctor?"

"No, no. My party days are over. Donald here will take my place, will you not, Donald?"

But Miss Lady gave him no chance to answer. That mad insistent clamor within her for joy, for life, for love, could not be trusted for a moment. She was afraid of herself!

"I'll stay home," she said, with a brave attempt at gaiety, conscious of Donald's critical eyes upon her. "We will have a pinochle tournament, and Noah and I will beat the home team on its own ground. Won't we, Noah?"

But Noah did not hear her; he was absorbed in watching Connie who stood on tiptoe, pinning a flower in Don Morley's buttonhole.

CHAPTER XX

For the next month little else was talked about but Donald Morley's trial. The truth of the matter sustained a compound fracture every time the subject was discussed. In some quarters it was confidently asserted that the fugitive from justice had been captured the moment he landed in America, and was allowed his liberty only under a heavy bond. Others contended that a guilty conscience had driven him to confession.

Meanwhile his friends were either exasperated at his folly in reviving the old scandal, or quixotically enthusiastic over his demand for justice. Mrs. Sequin bitterly opposed his action until she found that the Bartrums, Dr. Queerington, and other influential friends upheld him, then she decided to suspend her judgment until the trial was over. Of course if he was going to be a hero, she wanted to be his