“But, my dear Mrs. Cheston,” echoed her host with a deprecating wave of his hand--“my Harry would no more attack a man under his own roof than you would cut off your right hand. He's not born that way--none of us are.” “You talk like a perfect idiot, Talbot!” she retorted angrily. “You seem to have forgotten everything you knew. These young fellows here are so many tinder boxes. There will be trouble I tell you--go out there and find out what is going on,” she reiterated, her voice increasing in intensity. “They've had time enough to fix up a dozen Virginia reels--and besides, Kate is waiting, and they know it. Look! there's some one coming out--it's that young Teackle. Call him over here and find out!” The doctor, who had halted at the door, was now scrutinizing the faces of the guests as if in search of some one. Then he moved swiftly to the far side of the room, touched Mark Gilbert, Harry's most intimate friend, on the shoulder, and the two left the floor. Kate sat silent, a fixed smile on her face that ill concealed her anxiety. She had heard every word of the talk between Mrs. Cheston and the colonel, but she did not share the old lady's alarm as to any actual conflict. She would trust Uncle George to avoid that. But what kept Harry? Why leave her thus abruptly and send no word back? In her dilemma she leaned forward and touched the colonel's arm. “You don't think anything is the matter, dear colonel, do you?” “With whom, Kate?” “Between Harry and Mr. Willits. Harry might resent it--he was very angry.” Her lips were quivering, her eyes strained. She could hide her anxiety from her immediate companions, but the colonel was Harry's father. The colonel turned quickly: “Resent it here! under his own roof, and the man his guest? That is one thing, my dear, a Rutter never violates, no matter what the provocation. I have made a special exception in Mr. Willits's favor to-night and Harry knows it. It was at your dear father's request that I invited the young fellow. And then again, I hear the most delightful things about his own father, who though a plain man is of great service to his county--one of Mr. Clay's warmest adherents. All this, you see, makes it all the more incumbent that both my son and myself should treat him with the utmost consideration, and, as I have said, Harry understands this perfectly. You don't know my boy; I would disown him, Kate, if he laid a hand on Mr. Willits--and so should you.” CHAPTER V