entered a young man of twenty-two or three, good-natured confidence
in his manner, flawlessly dressed, with hands that were swathed in
bandages. He crossed limpingly to Mrs. De Peyster, who, her affection
now under control, stood regarding him with reproving and sternly
questioning eyes.

"Good-morning, mother,--glad to get back," he said, imprinting an
undaunted kiss upon her stately cheek.

Her reply was a continuance of her reproving look. The young man
turned to Mrs. De Peyster's faithful satellite.

"Hello, Olivetta. Hands out of commission. You'll have to shake my
elbow." And he held out his angled arm.

"Good-morning, Jack," responded Olivetta, in trepidation, hardly
daring to be gracious where Mrs. De Peyster had been cool.

Jack slipped an arm across Matilda's shoulders. "How are you, Matilda?
Glad to see you again."

"And I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Jack," returned Matilda, with a
look of stealthy affection.

"Please go, Matilda," said Mrs. De Peyster crisply. "And now, Jack,"
she continued with frigid dignity after Matilda had withdrawn, "I
trust that you will explain your absence, and your long silence."

"Certainly, mother," said Jack, pushing a slip-covered chair
before the fireplace--for an open wood fire burned here as in her