When the six months--the term of the note David had given Lucille Hardcome--elapsed he was unable to make any reduction in its amount. Casting up his accounts he found he was not quite able to meet his bills; a new load of debt was accumulating. He went to her with the interest money, feeling all the distress of a debtor, and she laughed at him. From somewhere in her gilded escritoire she hunted out the note, took the new one he proffered, and made the whole affair seem trivial. He mentioned the subscription she had half, or wholly, promised and she reassured him. Some houses she owned somewhere were not rented at the moment; she did not like to promise what she could not perform or could only perform with difficulty. It would be all right; Mr. Burton understood; she had explained it to him. She made it seem a matter of business, with the unrented houses and her talk of taxes, and David was no business man; it was not for him to press matters too strongly if Lucille and Burton had come to an understanding. She turned the conversation to Alice and Ben. “Lanny Welsh hasn't been down at all, has he?” she asked. “Yes, once or twice,” David said. “Alice says he is buying a shop in Derlingport.” “Has bought it. It is one reason he cannot come down.” Lucille looked full into David's eyes. “Tell me!” she smiled. “Don't I deserve to know the whole? Has she said anything!” “Yes,” said David, “she has said something. She doesn't know what to do. She came to me for advice; I told her to trust her own heart.” Lucille laughed gleefully. “These girls!” she exclaimed. “Well, you told her exactly the right thing! Mr. Dean, she is in love with Ben! She is in love with both of them, of course, or she is in love with Love, as a young girl should be, and she doesn't know behind which mask, Ben's or Lanny's, Love is hiding. She will never marry Lanny!” “You are so sure?” “You wouldn't know the Ben I have made,” said Lucille. “Ben does not know. Six months ago he had no more of the lover in him than a machine has; if any youth was left, it was drying up while he clawed over his business affairs. I think,” she laughed, “if I ever needed a profession I would take up lover-making. What do you think Ben has done?” David did not hazard a guess. “Bought a shotgun,” Lucille laughed. “Ben Derling going in for sport! I'd have him learning to dance, if dancing was proper. I believe I am really clever, Mr. Dean! I saw just what Ben lacked, and I had George Tunnison come here--he plays a flute as horribly as anyone can--and I made him talk ducks and quail, until Ben's muscles twitched. If Alice had been a man she would be a duck hunter.” David smiled now. “She would,” he admitted. “So Ben is spending half his spare time banging at a paper target with George, and he brings the targets to show to Alice. He has bought a shanty boat with George. It's romance! Danger! Manliness!”