"That about describes her state of mind," responded the other. "Life has been a triumphal progress for her, so far. She hasn't had a mother for ten years, and her father couldn't spare her to go away to school, so here she has been educated, right in our burg, though she's a millionaire's daughter. You've been in that old-fashioned stone pile of a house of Barry's up there on Michigan Avenue? I should think Barry'd be sick of keeping a boarding-house for servants, and I've told him so." "He's sick of something," returned Mr. Lindsay quietly, "or so it seemed to my wife and me. We dined there last night." "Oh, you did?" "Yes. The daughter wasn't there. Her father said she was away at one of her graduation festivities. What's the matter with Barry?" The speaker's eyes left the dimpling girl with the dancing eyes and came back to his friend as he asked the quiet question. "Why, nothing that I know of," replied the other, surprised. "Cares of state, I suppose." "No rumors on the street?" The slow question was put in a still lower tone. "Haven't heard any," was the quick reply. The other nodded. "Good," he said. "Why, have you?" "There's some talk in the East about the Antlers project. Probably nothing but gossip." "Nothing else, I'm sure. All these big irrigation deals have something of a black eye just now, but Barry & Co. know what they're about. They never buy a pig in a poke." "What are you saying about pigs, Cyrus?" asked Mrs. Radcliffe smartly. "You know it's a tabooed subject in our best families." Mr. Radcliffe paid no attention to her in his disturbance. "You know my nephew, Bertram King? He came straight out of college into that bank, and has been there nearly ten years. Barry likes him, and he's had good luck, and I think another year'll see him in the firm. Everybody believes that Barry doesn't go into any big deal unless King approves. I see Bertram quite often. He's over there in that dinner party now: sitting on Harriet's right. You've met my daughter-in-law?" "Oh, yes, and King, too. He dined with us last night. Seemed to be a brainy chap." "Oh, he's sedate as they make 'em. I often think he's the one that ought to have married Harriet. See Henry sitting between those pink and blue girls, and keeping 'em in a roar? He gets his frivolity from his mother." Mrs. Radcliffe drew down the corners of her lips. "Frivolity that captured Harriet Barry, you'll notice. There they go," she added, as the gay young people at the round table pushed back their chairs; "there they go to their dance. Happy young things!" Mrs. Radcliffe sighed. "With all their troubles before them," she added, and the perfunctoriness of the addition made Mr. Lindsay smile. "I hope they all weather it as well as you have, Mrs. Radcliffe," he said. The host smiled too as they rose from the table. "So say we all of us," he remarked. "Let's go and have a game. Do you play nullos, Mrs. Lindsay?"