"I will reserve that until later," said Mrs. Burton, icily. "If you have finished your luncheon, Helen, please pay the check and we shall go." CHAPTER III. WHITNEY BARNES UNDER FIRE. Joshua Barnes, sometimes referred to in the daily press as Old Grim Barnes, the mustard millionaire, turned suddenly upon his son and pinioned him: "Why don't you get married?" "That's just it, pater--why don't I?" replied the young man, blandly. "Well, why don't you, then?" stormed Joshua Barnes, banging his fist down upon the mahogany table. "It's time you did." Another bang lifted the red-headed office boy in the next room clear out of Deep Blood Gulch just as Derringer Dick was rescuing the beautiful damsel from the Apaches. Even Miss Featherington dropped "The Mystery of the Purple Room" on the floor and made a wild onslaught on the keys of her typewriter. Whitney Barnes smiled benevolently upon his parent and nonchalantly lighted a cigarette. "As I've said before," he parried easily between the puffing of smoke rings, "I haven't found the girl." "Dod rot the girl," started Joshua Barnes, then stopped. "Now, you know, my dear father, that I couldn't treat my wife like that. The trouble with you, pater, is that you reason from false premises." "Nothing of the sort," choked out Barnes senior. "You know well enough what I mean, young man. You have any number of--of--well, eligible young ladies, to choose from. You go everywhere and meet everybody. And you spend my money like water." "Somebody has got to spend it," spoke up the sole heir to the mustard millions, cheerfully. "I'll tell you what I'll do, pater--you stop making it and I'll stop spending it. That's a bargain. It'll be a great lark for us both. It keeps me awake nights figuring out how I'm going to spend it and it keeps you awake nights puzzling over how you can make it--or, that is, make more of it." "_Stop_!" thundered Joshua Barnes. "For once in my life, Whitney Barnes, I am going to have a serious talk with you. If your poor mother had only lived all this wouldn't have been necessary. She'd have had you married off and there'd be a houseful of grand-children by this time, and"---- "Just a moment, pater--did triplets or that sort of thing ever run in our family?" "Certainly not! What are you driving at?" "Nothing; nothing, my father. Only I was just wondering. We have a pretty big house, you know." For a moment Joshua Barnes seemed on the verge of apoplexy, but he came around quickly, and moreover with a twinkle in his eye. Even a life devoted to mustard has its brighter side and Old Grim Barnes was not entirely devoid of a sense of humor. He was his grim old self again, however, when he resumed: