But it is at the stone house on its very brow where the master, Floyd Grandon, is expected home to-day after years of wandering and many changes. In the library his mother and sisters are gathered. It is a favorite place with Gertrude, who spends her days on the sofa reading. Marcia much affects her own "study," up under the eaves, but to-day she is clothed and in her right mind, free from dabs of paint or fingers grimed with charcoal and crayons. Laura is always Laura, a stylish young girl, busy with the strip of an extremely elegant carriage robe, and Mrs. Grandon, a handsome woman past fifty, has a bit of embroidery in her hands. She seems never exactly idle, but now she holds her work and listens, then drops into musing. "I wonder what _can_ be the matter?" she exclaims presently. "It is full half an hour behind time," looking at her watch. "Are you in a hurry?" asks a languid voice from the luxurious Turkish lounge. "Gertrude! How heartless you are! When we have not seen Floyd for seven years!" in a tone of reproach. "If he were only coming alone----" "And if we _did_ know whether he is married or not!" This young, impatient voice is Laura's. Not that it will make any great difference to her. "We cannot dispossess Floyd," says Marcia, in a queer, caustic tone. "And a new mistress----" Marcia has a great gift for making people uncomfortable. "You seem so certain that he has married her," the mother comments in a kind of incredulous impatience. "Well, he was in love with her before. And now their travelling together, his bringing her here, look wonderfully like it." "Well, what then? She is rich, handsome, an elegant society woman, and just your age, Gertrude." That rather stings the pale, listless woman on the lounge, who knows her mother's ambition has been sorely crossed by these single daughters. "Not quite, mother mine. Even six months is something. She will not be able to twit me with seniority." "But she may with the fact that she has been twice married," says Marcia. "I am glad I shall be out of the way of all complications," announces Laura, in a joyous tone. "But for mourning and the miserable lack of money I should have been married sooner." "Laura! At least you owe some respect to your father's memory!" the mother retorts sharply. "Nevertheless, I am glad not to be dependent upon Floyd. And, mamma, you surely ought to rejoice at the prospect of having _one_ daughter well married," with a little exultant ring in her voice. She is only eighteen, and has captured both wealth and position, and is longing so ardently to try her new world. These Grandon girls are not particularly amiable with one another. Indeed, life seems to have gone wrong with all of them, and they feel that Floyd alone is to be envied, thanks to great Aunt Marcia.