“No. You may thank Major Dale’s bump of acquisitiveness,” she said, laughing at him over her shoulder as she led the way into the house. “Having so much land already out there, like other great property owners, he is always looking for more.” If Garry Knapp was not assured that she was entirely frank upon this matter, he knew that his welcome was as warm as though he were really an old friend. He met Mrs. White almost at once, and Dorothy was delighted by her marked approval of him. Garry Knapp got to the major by slow degrees. Tavia marveled as she watched Dorothy Dale’s calm and assured methods. This was the demure, cautious girl whom she had always looked upon as being quite helpless when it came to managing “affairs” with members of the opposite sex. Tavia imagined she was quite able to manage any man—“put him in his place,” she termed it—much better than Dorothy Dale. But now! Dorothy quietly sent Joe and Roger out for Mr. Knapp’s bags and told them to take the bags up to an indicated room. She made no fuss about it, but took it for granted that Garry Knapp had come for a visit, not for a call. The young man from the West had to sit down and talk with Aunt Winnie. That lady proceeded in her good-humored and tactful way to draw him out. Aunt Winnie learned more about Garry Knapp in those few minutes than even Tavia had learned when she took dinner with the young man. And all the time the watchful Dorothy saw Garry Knapp growing in her aunt’s estimation. Ned came in. He had been fussing and fuming because business had kept him from personally seeing Jennie Hapgood aboard her train. He welcomed this big fellow from the West, perhaps, because he helped take Ned’s mind off his own affairs. “Come on up and dress for dinner,” Ned suggested, having gained Garry Knapp’s sole attention. “It’s pretty near time for the big eats, and mother is a stickler for the best bib and tucker at the evening meal.” “Great Scott!” gasped Garry Knapp in a panic. “You don’t mean dinner dress? I haven’t had on a swallowtail since I was in college.” “Tuxedo will do,” Ned said lightly. “If you didn’t bring ’em I’ll lend you. I’m about as broad as you, my boy.” Garry Knapp was three or four years older than Ned, and that “my boy” sounded rather funny. However, the Westerner did not smile. He accepted the loan of the dinner coat and the vest without comment, but he looked very serious while he was dressing. They went down together to meet the girls in the drawing-room. Dorothy Dale and Tavia had dressed especially for the occasion. Tavia flaunted her fine feathers frankly; but demure Dorothy’s eyes shone more gloriously than her frock. Ned said: “You look scrumptious, Coz. And, of course, Tavia, you are a vision of delight. Where’s Nat?” “Nat?” questioned Tavia, her countenance falling. “Is—isn’t he upstairs?” “Why, don’t you know?” Dorothy cried. “He’s gone to Boston. Left just before you came back from the station, Tavia.”