"There is something positively awful in his face," returned the girl, as her eyes faltered and dropped to her plate on unexpectedly meeting those of the subject of her remark. "Sh-h!" came from Medford; and then: "Come, Billy--what's the point--or the moral, as they say in novels?" "Fernmore is a rattling good chap, at heart," Graydon was saying to Jane; "but I can't stand that Med--" "Yes, yes, go on, Mr. Fernmore," broke in several voices in eager expectancy. "The moral?" Billy's eyes were twinkling. "The joke, rather, is on me. When Mrs. Fernmore reached home I thought it wise to say nothing about the affair; but I had completely underestimated the persistency of these rejuvenated venerables. They were not satisfied--wanted to know more about the girls; and the next day in deep but joyous simplicity, half a dozen old men asked their married daughters and close friends at the clubs what family of Brown a certain debutante belonged to; who was the father of Miss Jones; and how long had the family of Miss Robinson lived in the city, together with a lot of amazing questions. And failing to derive even the remotest satisfaction from the Social Register, the women members of their families besieged my innocent wife with more or less shocked inquiries as to an entertainment of mine at which their aged relations were present. Well, the game was up! I owned up--confessed to the girls being actresses and begged for mercy." "And I forgave him," supplemented Mrs. Fernmore, smilingly. "Boys will be boys." "Whew!" whistled Billy, in conclusion. "It was no end of a lark! I would not have missed it for the world; but the old chaps will never, never forgive me." As the gentleman finished, Bansemer was looking at Droom with amusement. The old clerk was shaking his head in a manner that signified disapproval. "How's that for doings in swagger society, eh, Droom? If anyone but Billy Fernmore had done that, he would have been ostracised forever. Nothing like millions--" "I don't believe true aristocrats would do that," interrupted Droom, half angrily. "These are the aristocrats--money aristocrats; the others have lost the name--forgotten. Come, let's go over yonder--we can talk there." Bansemer called for the bill and settled it; then slowly rising, ostentatiously waved his adieus to the alcove and deserted the scene for Chapin & Gore's Droom meekly followed him employer. For some time, neither spoke. In their stall, each was busy with his own thoughts and speculations. "I think I've made a mess of it with Mr. Cable," began Banseemer. "She---" "I wouldn't mention names," cautioned Droom, with a look at the top of the partition. "She's very likely to fight back, after all." "What was your demand?" "Money," said Bansemer, quietly. "Humph!" was Broom's way of saying he lied. "Harbert has a purpose in coming here, Elias. We must prepare for him."