Ned Shepherd and Alice Hovey were at the station with John to see them off and several hundred other citizens looked on with mingled emotions of admiration and envy. The _Journal’s_ photographer caught an excellent picture of Mrs. Ward and Helen, their arms full of roses, standing on the rear platform as the train pulled out. * * * * * “That boy of yours,” remarked Walter Scott Campbell, as he sat with Robert Fleming Ward in the smoking room of the _White Gull_ as the yacht felt her way cautiously up Chesapeake Bay,--“That boy must be a good deal of a lad. Even at long range you can feel his energy and enterprise.” “He’s a good boy,” Ward agreed diffidently, “and full of ginger. I get out of breath trying to keep up with him.” Campbell chuckled. “Knows a chance when he sees it.” Another Campbell chuckle. “I like youngsters of that type. He’s profited of course by your own long experience in the law?” “He’s as good a lawyer as I am now--more resourceful, and a better hand in dealing with people.” “That boy knows more than the law,” declared Campbell with another chuckle. “He knows human nature!” As their eyes met Ward’s face broke into a smile as he realized that Campbell understood everything, and was not at all displeased at the outrageous fashion in which John had used his name. “You know of Gaspard & Collins, in New York?” asked the magnate. “They do a good deal of my legal work. They’re looking for a young man, westerner preferred, to go into the firm, and it just occurs to me that your John would just suit them. I can understand how you would feel about losing him, but it’s a good opportunity to get in touch with important affairs. Talk it over with your wife, and if you think well of the idea you can wire him tomorrow. It’s a fair night; let’s go on deck and watch the lights.” ARABELLA’S HOUSE PARTY I Farrington read the note three times, fished the discarded envelope out of his wastepaper basket, scrutinized it thoroughly, and then addressed himself again to the neat vertical script. What he read was this: If Mr. Farrington will appear at the Sorona Tea House, on Bayfield Road, near Corydon, at four o’clock today--Tuesday--the matter referred to in his reply to our advertisement may be discussed. We serve only one client at a time and our consultations are all strictly confidential. The note was unsigned, and the paper, the taste and quality of which were beyond criticism, bore no address. The envelope had not passed through the post office, but had been thrust by a private messenger into the R.F.D. box at Farrington’s gate.