“Provoking? I should say it was! He pretended he was going to tack this letter up on the notice-board in the hall of the hotel, so that every one might know what guests of distinction the Matterhorn House held. But the most exasperating feature of the situation is that this letter has been lying for days and days at our cottage in Bar Harbor. I am quite certain that I left instructions for letters to be forwarded, but, as nothing came, I telegraphed yesterday to the people who have taken our house, and now a whole heap of belated correspondence has arrived, with a note from our tenant saying he did not know our address. You will see at the bottom of the note that the Prince asks my father to communicate with him by sending a reply to the ‘Consternation’ at New York, but now the ‘Consternation’ has sailed for England, and poor John must have waited and waited in vain.” “Write care of the ‘Consternation’ in England.” “But Jack told me that the ‘Consternation’ paid off as soon as she arrived, and probably he will have gone to Russia.” “If you address him at the Admiralty in London, the letter will be forwarded wherever he happens to be.” “How do you know?” “I have heard that such is the case.” “But you’re not sure, and I want to be certain.” “Are you really in love with him, Kate?” “Of course I am. You know that very well, and I don’t want any stupid misapprehension to arise at the beginning, such as allows a silly author to carry on his story to the four-hundredth page of such trash as this,” and she gently touched with her toe the unoffending volume which lay on the ground beneath the hammock. “Then why not adopt your father’s suggestion, and cable? It isn’t you who are cabling, you know.” “I couldn’t consent to that. It would look as if we were in a hurry, wouldn’t it?” “Then let me cable.” “You? To whom?” “Hand me up that despised book, Kate, and I’ll write my cablegram on the fly-leaf. If you approve of the message, I’ll go to the hotel, and send it at once.” Katherine gave her the book, and lent the little silver pencil which hung jingling, with other trinkets, on the chain at her belt. Dorothy scribbled a note, tore out the fly-leaf, and presented it to Katherine, who read: “Alan Drummond, Bluewater Club, Pall Mall, London. Tell Lamont that his letter to Captain Kempt was delayed, and did not reach the Captain until to-day. Captain Kempt’s reply will be sent under cover to you at your club. Arrange for forwarding if you leave England. “Dorothy Amhurst.” When Katherine finished reading she looked up at her friend, and exclaimed: “Well!” giving that one word a meaning deep as the clear pool on whose borders she stood. Dorothy’s face reddened as if the sinking western sun was shining full upon it. “You write to one another, then?” “Yes.” “And is it a case of--” “No; friendship.” “Sure it is nothing more than that?” Dorothy shook her head.