him," declared Miss Lawrence with a warmth uncommon to her. "What did
your father do?"

"Really now, I did not mean anything," stammered LaHume, the red
flushing through the tan of his face. It suddenly dawned on me that
there was a period in the life of my father when he worked as a hired
man in order to earn the money with which to marry my mother, and that
from this humble start he was able finally to acquire the ancestral
Smith farm, then in the possession of a more wealthy branch of the
family. I made common cause with Miss Lawrence, and I did it with better
grace from the fact that I resent the airs assumed by LaHume.

"LaHume's father founded the roadhouse down yonder," I said, pointing
towards a resort which yet goes by the LaHume name, and one which does
not enjoy a reputation any too savory. Of course this is not the fault
of the elder LaHume, who has since made a fortune in the hotel business.
I could see that the shot went home.

"I say, Smith, let's play golf and cut out this family history
business," protested LaHume, who was fighting angry. "It is your shot,
Miss Lawrence."

"Don't you think he is handsome, Mr. Smith?" she asked.

"Who; Mr. LaHume?" I returned, not averse to rubbing it into the
descendant of the roadhouse keeper.

"Of course not," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I mean
that lovely hired man."