Next morning an astonishing rumor began to circulate through Trumet. It spread with remarkable quickness, and, as it spread, it grew. The Dotts had inherited money! The Dotts were rich! The Dotts were millionaires! Captain Daniel's brother had died and left him fifty thousand dollars! His brother's wife had died and left him a hundred thousand! It was not his brother's wife, but Serena's uncle who had died, and the inheritance was two hundred and fifty thousand at least. By the time the story reached Trumet Neck it seemed to be fairly certain that all the Dott relatives on both sides of the house had passed away, leaving the sole survivors of the family all the money and property in the world, with a few trifling exceptions.

Captain Dan, coming in for dinner,—one must eat, or try to eat, even though the realities of life have been blown away, and one is moving in a sort of dream, with the fear of awakening always present—Captain Dan, coming into the house for dinner, expressed his opinion of Trumet gossip mongers.

“My heavens and earth, Serena!” he cried, sinking into his chair at the table, “am I me, or somebody else? Do I know what I'm doin' or what's happened to me, or don't I?”

Serena, a transformed, flushed, excited Serena, beamed at him across the table.

“I should hope you did, Daniel,” she answered.

“Well, if I do, then nobody else does, and if THEY do, I don't. I've heard of more dead relations this forenoon than I ever had alive. And yarns about 'em! and about you and me! My soul and body! Say, did you know you had a cousin-in-law in Californy?”

“I? In California? Nonsense!”

“No nonsense about it. You had one and he was a lunatic or a epileptic or an epizootic or somethin', and lived in a hospital or a palace or a jail, and he was worth four millions or forty, I forget which, and fell out of an automobile or out of a balloon or out of bed—anyhow, it killed him—and—”

“Daniel Dott! DON'T talk so idiotic!”

“Humph! that's nothin' to the idiocy that's been talked to me this forenoon. I've done nothin' for the last hour but say 'No' to folks that come tearin' in to unload lies and ask questions. And some of 'em was people you'd expect to have common sense, too. My head's kind of wobbly this mornin', after the shock that hit it last night, but it's a regular Dan'l Webster's alongside the general run of heads in this town. Aunt Laviny's will has turned Trumet into an asylum, and the patients are all runnin' loose.”

“But WHAT foolishness was that about a cousin in California?”

“'Twa'n't foolishness, I tell you. You ask any one of a dozen folks you meet outside the post-office now, and they'll all tell you you had one. They might not agree whether 'twas a cousin or a grandmother or a step-child, or whether it lived in Californy or the Cape of Good Hope, but they all know it's dead now, and we've got anywheres from a postage stamp to a hogshead of diamonds. Serena, if you hear yells for help this afternoon, don't pay any attention. It'll only mean that my patience has run out and I'm tryin' to make this community short one devilish fool at least. There'll be enough left; he'll never be missed.”

“Daniel, I never saw you so worked up. You must expect people to be excited. I'm excited myself.”

The captain wiped his forehead with his napkin. “I ain't exactly a graven image, now that you mention it,” he admitted. “But you and I have got some excuse and they ain't. Haven't they been in to see you; or did you lock the doors?”

“I have had callers, of course. Mrs. Berry was here, and Mrs. Tripp, and the Cahoon girls, and Issachar Eldredge's wife. The first four pretended they came on lodge business, and the Eldredge woman to get my recipe for chocolate doughnuts; but, of course, I knew what they really came for. Daniel, HOW do you suppose the news got out so soon? I didn't tell a soul and you promised you wouldn't.”

“I didn't, neither. Probably that lawyer man dropped a hint down at the Manonquit House, and that set things goin'. Just heave over one seed of a yarn in most any hotel or boardin' house and you'll have a crop of lies next mornin' that would load a three-master. They come up in the night, like toadstools.”

“But you didn't tell anyone how much your Aunt Lavinia left us?”

“You bet I didn't. I told 'em I didn't know yet. I was cal'latin' to hire a couple of dozen men and a boy to count it, and soon's the job was finished I'd get out a proclamation. What did you tell your gang?”

“I simply said,” Serena unconsciously drew herself up and spoke with a gracious dignity; “I said they might quote me as saying it was NOT a million.”

Azuba entered from the kitchen, heaving a steaming platter.

“There!” she exclaimed, setting the dish before her employers; “I don't know as clam fritters are what rich folks ought to eat, but I done the best I could. I'm so shook up and trembly this day it's a mercy I didn't fry the platter.”

Yes, something had happened to the Dotts, something vastly more wonderful and surprising than falling heir to three thousand dollars and a silver tea-pot. When Captain Daniel shut up the Metropolitan Store the previous evening and started for the house, the bearer of the great news was on his way from the Manonquit House, where he had had supper. When Serena bewailed her fate and expressed a desire for an opportunity, he was almost at the front gate, and the ring of the bell which interrupted her conversation with her husband was the signal that Opportunity, in the person of Mr. Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of Shepley and Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door.

Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was young, a fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble beard, and much professional dignity of manner and expression. Occasionally, in the heat of conversation, he forgot the dignity; the beard he never forgot. Shown into the Dott sitting-room by Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to remove her kitchen apron, he bowed politely and inquired if he had the pleasure of addressing Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. The captain assured him that he had. Serena was too busy glaring at the apron and its wearer to remember etiquette.

“Won't you—won't you sit down, Mr. er—er—” began the captain.

Mr. Farwell introduced himself, and sat down, as requested. After a glance about the room, which took in the upright piano—purchased second-hand when Gertrude first began her music lessons—the what-not, with its array of shells, corals, miniature ships in bottles, and West Indian curiosities, and the crayon enlargement over the mantel of Captain Solon Dott, Daniel's grandfather, he proceeded directly to business.

“Captain Dott,” he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing politely to Serena to indicate that she was included in the question, “you received a letter from our firm about a week ago, did you not?”

Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his caller's identity, shook his head. “As a matter of fact,” he stammered, “I—I only got it to-day. It came all right, that is, it got as far as the post-office, but the postmaster, he handed it over to Balaam Hamilton, to bring to me. Well, Balaam is—well, his underpinnin's all right; he wears a number eleven shoe—but his top riggin' is kind of lackin' in spots. You'd understand if you knew him. He put the letter in his pocket and—”

“Mercy!” cut in Serena, impatiently, “what do you suppose Mr. Farwell cares about Balaam Hamilton? He forgot the letter, Mr. Farwell, and we only got it this morning. That is why it hasn't been answered. What about the letter?”

The visitor did not answer directly. “I see,” he said. “That letter informed you that Mrs. Lavinia Dott—your aunt, Captain,—was dead, and that we, her legal representatives, having, as we supposed, her will in our possession, and being in charge of her affairs—”

Mrs. Dott interrupted. Her excitement had been growing ever since she learned the visitor's name and, although her husband did not notice the peculiar phrasing of the lawyer's sentence, she did.

“As you supposed?” she repeated. “You did have the will, didn't you?”

“We had a will, one which Mrs. Dott drew some eight or nine years ago. But we received word from Italy only yesterday that there was another, a much more recent one, which superseded the one in our possession. Of course, that being the case, the bequests in the former were not binding upon the estate. That is to say, our will was not a will at all.”

Serena gasped. She looked at her husband, and he at her.

“Then we—then she didn't leave us the three thousand dollars?” she cried.

“Or—or the tea-pot?” faltered Captain Dan.

Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the situation. However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable clients in suspense too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed from Boston to impart.

“She left you a great deal more than that,” he said. “In the former will, her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the principal legatee. He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she left the bulk of her property—some hundred and twenty thousand dollars in securities, and her estate at Scarford—to him. But last February it appears that he and she had a falling out. He—Mr. Hungerford—is, so I am told, a good deal of a sport—ahem! that is, he is a young gentleman of fashionable and expensive tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money, rather frequently. The February letter reached her when she was grouchy—er—not well, I mean, and she changed her will, practically disinheriting him. Under the new will he receives twenty thousand dollars in cash. The balance—” Mr. Farwell, who, during this long statement, had interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional lapse into youthful idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,—“the balance,” he said, “one hundred thousand in money and securities, and the house at Scarford, which is valued, I believe, at thirty-five thousand more, she leaves to you, as her only other relative, Captain Dott. I am here to congratulate you and to offer you my services and those of the firm, should you desire legal advice.”

Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to enjoy the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be the complete stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed were characteristic.

“My soul and body!” gasped Captain Dan. “I—I—my land of love! And only this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!”

“A hundred thousand dollars!” cried Serena. “And that beautiful house at Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!”

Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. “A very handsome little windfall,” he observed, with condescension.

“We get a hundred thousand!” murmured the captain. “My! I wish Father was alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on that young Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!”

“A hundred thousand!” breathed his wife, her hands clasped. “And that lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we wanted to! Yes, and live there! Oh—oh, Daniel! I—I don't know why I'm doing it, but I—I believe I'm going to cry.”

Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her shoulder.

“Go ahead, old lady,” he commanded. “Cry, if you want to. I—I'm goin' to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!”

Thus it was that Fortune and Opportunity came to the Dott door, and it was the news of the visitation, distorted and exaggerated, which set all Trumet by the ears next day.

Azuba's clam fritters were neglected that noon, just as breakfast had been. Neither Captain Dan nor his wife had slept, and they could not eat. They pretended to, they even tried to, but one or the other was certain to break out with an exclamation or a wondering surmise, and the meal was, as the captain said, “all talk and no substantials.” They had scarcely risen from the table when the doorbell rang.

Azuba heard it and made her entrance from the kitchen. She had remembered this time to shed the offending apron, but she carried it in her hand.

“I'm a-goin',” she declared; “I'm a-goin', soon's ever I can.”

She started for the sitting-room, but the captain stepped in front of her.

“You stay right where you are,” he ordered. “I'll answer that bell myself this time.”

“Daniel,” cried his wife, “what are you going to do?”

“Do? I'm goin' to head off some more fools, that's what I'm goin' to do. They shan't get in here to pester you to death with questions, not if I can help it.”

“But, Daniel, you mustn't. You don't know who it may be.”

“I don't care.”

“Oh, dear me! What are you going to say? You mustn't insult people.”

“I shan't insult 'em. I'll tell 'em—I'll tell 'em you're sick and can't see anybody.”

“But I'm not sick.”

“Then, I am,” said Captain Dan. “They make me sick. Shut up, will you?” addressing the bell, which had rung the second time. “I'll come when I get ready.”

He seemed to be quite ready that very moment. At all events he strode from the room, and his anxious wife and the flushed Azuba heard him tramping through the front hall.

“What—WHAT is he going to do?” faltered Serena; “or say?”

Azuba shook her head. “Land knows!” she exclaimed. “I ain't seen him this way since the weasel got into the hen-house. He went for THAT with the hoe-handle. And as for what he said! Well, don't talk to ME!”

But no riot or verbal explosion followed the opening of the door. The anxious listeners in the dining-room heard voices, but they were subdued ones. A moment later Captain Dan returned. He looked troubled.

“It's Barney Black and his wife,” he answered, in a whisper. “I couldn't tell THEM to go to thunder. They're in the front room, waitin'. I suppose we'll have to see 'em, won't we?”

Mrs. Dott was hurriedly shaking the wrinkles out of her gown and patting her hair into presentable shape.

“See 'em!” she repeated. “Of course we'll see them. I declare! I think it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. It's way round under your ear.”

They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and her husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie.

Mrs. and Mr. Black—scanning them in the order of their importance—rose as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and gorgeous to view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not as tall as his wife, and did not look his height. Annette swept forward.

“Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her own gloved one. “We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we couldn't resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it wonderful!”

Serena admitted that it was wonderful. “We can hardly believe it yet, ourselves,” she said. “But it was real nice of you to come. Do sit down again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair.”

Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. “Sit down anywhere, Barney,” said the former. “Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; that's got a squeak in the leg.”

Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and sank into an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the word “Barney,” and the glare with which Serena favored her husband, were entirely lost upon the latter.

“We had that rocker up in the attic till last month,” he observed; “but Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be all the go now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. I suppose it's all right. We'll be antiques ourselves before many years, and we'll want folks to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! ha! ... Why, what's the matter, Serena?”

Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that “nothing was the matter.”

“The rocker isn't very strong,” she explained, addressing Mrs. Black. “But it belonged to my great—that is, it has been in our family for a good many years and we think a great deal of it.”

Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker was a “dear.”

“I love old-fashioned things,” she said. “So does Mr. Black. Don't you, Phelps?”

“Yes,” replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be over-enthusiastic.

“But do tell us about your little legacy,” went on the lady. “Of course we have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know better than to believe them. Why, we even heard that you were worth a million. Naturally, THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!”

Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a glance in his direction, and he closed it again.

“Yes,” said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, “that was absurd, of course.”

“So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country people exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we heard that your cousin had died—that is, I heard it was a cousin; Phelps heard it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, wasn't it, Phelps?”

“Yes,” said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the conversation.

“So,” went on Mrs. Black, “we didn't know which it was.”

She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to speak, and again a look from his wife caused him to change his mind. Before he had quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have noticed the look, had turned to him.

“Wasn't it funny!” she gushed. “I don't wonder you laugh. Here was I saying it was a cousin and Phelps declaring it was an uncle. It was so odd and SO like this funny little town. Do tell us; which was it, really, Captain Dott?”

Daniel, staggering before this point blank attack, hesitated. “Why,” he stammered, “it was—it was—” He looked appealingly at Serena.

“Why don't you answer Mrs. Black?” inquired his wife, rather sharply.

“It was my Aunt Laviny,” said the captain.

Mrs. Black nodded and smiled.

“Oh! your aunt!” she exclaimed. “There! isn't that funny! And SO characteristic of Trumet. Neither an uncle nor a cousin, but an aunt. What did you say her name was?”

“Laviny?”

“Yes, I know. Laviny—what an odd name! I don't think I ever heard it before. Was the rest of it as odd as that?”

Serena, who had been fidgeting in her chair, cut in here.

“It wasn't Laviny at all,” she said. “That is only Daniel's way of pronouncing it. It is what he used to call her when he was a child. A—a sort of pet name, you know.”

“Why, Serena! how you talk! She never had any pet name, far's I ever heard. You might as well give a pet name to the Queen of Sheba. She—”

“Hush! it doesn't make any difference. Her name, Mrs. Black, was Lavinia. She was Mrs. Lavinia Dott, and her husband was James Dott, Daniel's father's brother. I shouldn't wonder if you knew her. She has spent most of her time in Europe lately, but her home, her American home, was where you live, in Scarford.”

This statement caused a marked sensation. Mrs. Black gasped audibly, and leaned back in her chair. B. Phelps evinced his first sign of interest.

“What!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Lavinia Dott, of Scarford? You don't say! Why, of course we knew her; that is, we knew who she was. Everybody in Scarford did. Her place is one of the finest in town.”

Serena bowed. Life, for her, had not offered many sweeter moments than this.

“Yes,” she said, calmly, “so we understand. The place—er—that is, the estate—is a PART—” she emphasized the word—“a PART of what she left to my husband.”

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Mr. Black. His wife said nothing, but her face was a study.

Captain Dan crossed his knees.

“I remember seein' that place after Uncle Jim first built it,” he observed, reminiscently. “I tell you it looked big enough to me! I was only a young feller, just begun goin' to sea, and that house looked big as a town hall, you might say. Ho! ho! when I got inside and was sittin' in the front parlor, I declare I was all feet and hands! didn't know what to do with 'em.... Hey? did you speak, Serena?”

“I was only going to say,” replied his wife, “that that was a good while ago, of course. You have been about the world and seen a great deal since. Things look different after we grow up, don't they, Mrs. Black?”

Annette's composure, a portion of it, had returned by this time. Nevertheless, there was an odd note in her voice.

“They do, indeed,” she said. “I remember the Dott house, of course. It was very fine, I believe, in its day.”

Her husband interrupted. “In its day!” he repeated. “Humph! there's nothing the matter with it now, that I can see. I wish I had as good. Why—”

“Phelps!” snapped Annette, “don't be silly. Mrs. Dott understands what I meant to say. The place is very nice, very attractive, indeed. Perhaps some might think it a bit old-fashioned, but that is a matter of taste.”

“Humph! it's on the best street in town. As for being old-fashioned—I thought you just said you loved old-fashioned things. That's what she said, wasn't it, Dan?”

Mrs. Black's gloved fingers twitched, but she ignored the remark entirely. Daniel, too, did not answer, although he smiled in an uncertain fashion. It was Serena who spoke.

“I haven't any doubt it is lovely,” she said. “We're just dying to see it, Daniel and I. I hope you can be with us when we do, Mrs. Black. You might suggest some improvements, you know.”

“Improvements!” the visitor repeated the word involuntarily. “Improvements! You're not going to LIVE there, are you?”

“I don't know. We may. Now, Daniel, don't argue. You know we haven't made up our minds yet what we shall do. And Scarford is a beautiful city. Mrs. Black has told us so ever so many times. What were you going to say, Mrs. Black?”

The lady addressed looked as if she would like to say several things, particularly to her husband, who was grinning maliciously. But what she did was to smile, a smile of gracious sweetness, and agree that Scarford was beautiful.

“And so is the place, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she added. “A very charming, quaint old house. But—you'll excuse my saying so, won't you; you know Phelps and I have had some experience in keeping up a city estate—don't you think it might prove rather expensive for you to maintain?”

Serena's armor was not even dented. “Oh,” she said, lightly, “that wouldn't trouble us, I'm sure. Really, we've hardly thought of the expense. The Scarford place wasn't ALL that Aunt Lavinia left us, Mrs. Black.”

“Indeed!” rather feebly, “wasn't it?”

“My goodness, no! But there! I mustn't talk about ourselves and our affairs any more. Have you seen the lodge rooms to-day? I must find time to run down there this afternoon for a last look around. I want this open meeting to go off nicely. Who knows—well, I may not have the care of the next one.”

Azuba appeared in the doorway.

“The minister and his wife's comin',” she announced.

Mrs. Dott turned.

“The minister and his wife?” she repeated. “The bell hasn't rung, has it? How do you know they're coming here?”

“See 'em through the window,” replied Azuba, cheerfully. “They was at the gate quite a spell. She was gettin' her hat straight, and he was helpin' her. Here they be,” as the callers' footsteps sounded on the porch. “Shall I let 'em in?”

“Let them in! Why, of course! Why shouldn't you let them in?”

“Well, I didn't know. The way the cap'n was talkin' when you was havin' dinner, I thought—oh, that reminds me,” addressing the horror stricken Daniel, “Sam was in just now and wanted you to come right out to the store. Ezra Taylor's there and he wants another pair of them checkered overalls, same as he had afore.”

That evening when, having closed the Metropolitan Store at an early hour, the captain and his wife were on their way to the lodge meeting, Daniel voiced a feeling of perplexity which had disturbed his mind ever since the Blacks' call.

“Say, Serena,” he asked, “ain't you and Barney Black's wife friends any more?”

“Why, of course we're friends. What a question that is.”

“Humph! didn't seem to me you acted much like friends this afternoon. Slappin' each other back and forth—”

“Slappin' each other! Have you lost your brains altogether? What DO you mean?”

“I don't mean slappin' each other side of the head. 'Tain't likely I meant that. But the way you talked to each other—and the way you looked. And when 'twa'n't her it was me. She as much as asked you four or five times who it was that had died and you wouldn't tell, so, of course, I supposed you didn't want to. And yet, when she asked me and I was backin' and fillin', tryin' to get off the shoals, you barked out why didn't I 'answer her'? That may be sense, but I don't see it, myself.”

Serena laughed and squeezed his arm with her own.

“Did I bark?” she asked. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But it did make me cross to have her come sailing in, in that high and mighty way—”

“It's the same way she always sails. I never saw her when she didn't act as if she was the only clipper in the channel and small craft better get out from under her bows.”

“I know, you never did like her, although she has been so kind and nice to me and to Gertrude. Why, we, and the minister's family, and Doctor Bradstreet's people, are the only ones, except the summer folks, that she has anything to do with.”

The captain muttered that he knew it but that THAT didn't make him like her any better. His wife continued.

“I was a little put out by her to-day,” she admitted. “You see, she was SO anxious to find out things, and SO sure we couldn't be very rich, and SO certain we couldn't keep up Aunt Lavinia's big house, that—that I just had to give her as good as she sent.”

Daniel chuckled. “You did that all right,” he said.

“But I wouldn't hurt her feelings—really hurt them—for the world. I like her and admire her, and I am sure she likes me.”

“Humph! All right; only next time you get to admirin' each other I'm goin' out. That kind of admiration makes me nervous. I heard you admirin' Zuba out in the kitchen just before we left.”

“Azuba makes me awfully out of patience. She won't do what I tell her; she will wear her apron to the door; she will talk when she shouldn't. Just think what she said about you when the minister called. It was just Providence, and nothing else, that kept her from telling the Blacks what you said and how you acted at dinner. That's it—laugh! I expected you'd think it was funny.”

“Well, I give in that it does seem kind of funny to me, now, though it didn't when she started to say it. But you can't stop Zuba talkin' any more than you can a poll parrot. She means well; she's awful good-hearted—yes, and sensible, too, in her way.”

“I can't help it. She's got to learn her place. Just think of having her up there at Scarford, behaving as she does.”

The captain caught his breath.

“Scarford!” he repeated. “At Scarford! Look here, Serena, what are you talkin' about? You didn't mean what you said to that Black woman about our goin' to Scarford to live?”

“I don't know that I didn't. There! there! don't get excited. I don't say I do mean it, either. Aunt Lavinia's left us that lovely house, hasn't she? We've got it on our hands, haven't we? What are we going to do with it?”

“Why—why, I—I was cal'latin' we'd probably sell it, maybe. We've got our own place here in Trumet. We don't want two places, do we?”

“We might sell this one, at a pinch. No, Daniel, I don't know what we shall do yet awhile. But, one thing I AM sure of—you and I will go to Scarford and LOOK at that house, if nothing more. Now, don't argue, please. We're almost at the meeting. Be sure you don't tell anyone how much money we've got or anything about it. They'll all ask, of course, and they'll all talk about us, but you must expect that. Our position in life has altered, Daniel, and rich folks are always looked at and talked over. Are your shoes clean? Did you bring a handkerchief? Be sure and don't applaud too much when I'm speaking, because last time I was told that Abigail Mayo said if she was married and had a husband she wouldn't order him to clap his hands half off every time his wife opened her mouth. She isn't married and ain't likely to be, but.... Oh, Mrs. Black, I'm SO glad to see you! It's real lovely of you to come so early.”

Daniel Dott, as has been intimated, did not share his wife's love for lodge meetings. He attended them because she did, and wished him to, but he was not happy while they were going on. At this one he was distinctly unhappy. He saw Serena and Annette Black exchange greetings as if the little fencing match of the afternoon had been but an exchange of compliments. He saw the two ladies go, arm in arm, to the platform, where sat the “Boston delegates.” He nodded to masculine acquaintances in the crowd, other captives chained, like himself, to their wives' and daughters' chariot wheels. He heard the applause which greeted Serena's opening speech of introduction. He heard the Boston delegates speak, and Mrs. Black's gracious response to the request for a few words from the president of our Scarford Chapter. He heard it all, but, when it was over, he could not have repeated a sentence of all those which had reached his ears.

No, Captain Dan was not happy at this, the most successful “open meeting” ever held by the Trumet Chapter of the Guild of Ladies of Honor. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Aunt Lavinia's will had changed their position in life, so Serena had said. She had said other things, also, and he was beginning, dimly, to realize what they might mean.