"Now," began she, turning accusingly on her son, "perhaps you will be so good as to tell us what all this is about. How came you to know Mr. John Coulter well enough to be treating him like a long-lost brother? And what had you to do with Hal and Louise and the Coulter mills? I feel as if I were going crazy! One minute you don't even know Mr. Coulter by sight and the next he is sending us a Christmas dinner and you are fairly falling on his neck." Carl shook with laughter. "Oh, Mother, it's all so rich--so perfectly corking!" he cried. "You couldn't half appreciate it if I told you." "I could try," came curtly from Mrs. McGregor. But her son did not heed her. "To think of that being Mr. John Coulter," chuckled he. "And, oh, the things I said to him! I tremble to recall them. I told him Corcoran was a low-down skunk, I know that. And I gushed on a lot about Hal and Louise. I only wish I could remember what I did say. Jove! He must have split his sides laughing." "When? When did you do all this?" interrogated the lad's mother impatiently. "Oh, when was it?" ruminated Carl, struggling to collect his scattered wits. "It seems ages and ages ago that all that happened. It was before Christmas, I'm certain of that." "And you went riding with Mr. Coulter? I heard you saying something about it." "Yes." "You actually went to ride with him?" "I sure did!" "Well, all I can say is I should like to know when all these miracles took place," repeated Carl's mother. "Where was I, and why wasn't I told? You might at least have mentioned it at home." "I know it, Ma," apologized Carl with disarming frankness. "I did try twice to tell you but the chance never seemed to come right; and by and by it got to be so long ago that I forgot all about it." "Forgot you went motoring with Mr. John Coulter?" Mrs. McGregor spoke with incredulity. "You see I didn't know at the time that it was Mr. John Coulter, Ma." "I don't see! I don't understand anything about it," repeated the woman helplessly. "Well, you will by and by. It is a long story--too long to tell now. When we get home you shall hear it from beginning to end. But now---- Gee whizz! There goes Martin making for the pond! I'll head him off." Away went Carl across the velvet lawn and with an unsatisfied air Mrs. McGregor wheeled about to collect Nell and Tim, who were already tugging at her skirts. She felt as if the events of the past half-hour were a dream. Carl, her harum-scarum son, the catastrophe worker of the family, was the acknowledged friend of Mr. John Coulter, one of the richest and most revered citizens of Baileyville. And more than that he appeared to possess the influence to have men removed from their jobs and discharged employees reinstated in lost positions. He even had power to have people's salaries raised. Would wonders never cease? CHAPTER XIX UNRAVELING THE SNARLS