Michael had slept perhaps an hour when he was roused by the sound of voices, a sharp, hateful one with an unpleasant memory in it, and a sweet, dear one that went to his very soul. “Sit down here, Aunt Frances. There is no one about: Papa is asleep and Michael has not yet returned from a trip out West. You can talk without fear of being heard.” “Michael, Michael!” sniffed the voice. “Well, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I didn’t want to say anything out there where the chauffeur could hear; he is altogether too curious and might talk with the servants about it. I wouldn’t have it get out for the world. Your mother would have been mortified to death about all this, and I can’t see what your father is thinking about. He never did seem to have much sense where you were concerned—!” “Aunt Frances!” “Well, I can’t help it. He doesn’t. Now take this matter of your being down here, and the very thought of you’re calling that fellow Michael,—as if he were a cousin or something! Why, it’s simply disgusting! I hoped you were going to stay out West until your father was well enough to go away somewhere with you; but now that you have come back I think you ought to leave here at once. People will begin to talk, and I don’t like it. Why, the fellow will be presuming on it to be intimate with you—” Michael was suddenly roused to the fact that he was listening to a conversation not intended for his ears, and yet he had no way of getting out of hearing without passing the door in the front of which the two women were seated. Both the dining-room, door and the stairs were on the other side of the room from him and he would have to run the risk of being seen, by either or both of them if he attempted to cross to them. The windows were screened by wire nailed over the whole length, so he could not hope to get successfully out of any of them. There was nothing for it but to lie still, and pretend to be asleep if they discovered him afterwards. It was an embarrassing situation but it was none of his choosing. There was a slight stir outside, Starr had risen, and was standing with her back to the doorway. “Aunt Frances! What do you mean? Michael is our honored and respected friend, our protector—our—host. Think what he did for papa! Risked his life!” “Stuff and nonsense! Risked his life. He took the risk for perfectly good reasons. He knew how to worm himself into the family again—” “Aunt Frances! I will not hear you say such dreadful things. Michael is a gentleman, well-educated, with the highest ideals and principles. If you knew how self-sacrificing and kind he is!”