"Heritage--nonsense!" said the other woman, hardily. "Every one tells me that your husband is the gentlest and finest of them all--and his father was before him. I don't believe such things come down, anyway." "Well," smiled Sidney's wife, a little proudly, "I've never seen the Carolan temper in the nine years we've been married!" "Exactly. Besides, it's not a temper--just strong will." "Sidney has WILL enough," mused Jean. "Oh, all men have," said the doctor's wife contentedly. "Billy, now! He won't STAND a locked door. One night--I never shall forget!--the children locked themselves in the nursery, and Will simply burst the door in. Nobody makes a fuss or worries over THAT!" If the illustration was beside the point, neither woman perceived it. "There, you see!" said Jean, glad to be quite sure of conviction. "It never really worries me," she added, after a moment, "for Peter adores his father, and is only too eager to obey him. If Peter--and it's impossible!--ever DID really work himself up to disobedience, why, I suppose he'd get a thrashing,"--she made a wry face,--"and they'd love each other all the more for it." "Of course they would," agreed the other cheerfully. "There must have been some way in which Madam Carolan could have managed them," pursued Jean, thoughtfully. "The women of that generation were a poor-spirited lot, I imagine. One isn't quite a child!" There was another little pause in the hot murmuring silence of the garden, and then, with a sudden change of manner, she rose to her feet. "Mary! come and meet Sidney and the kiddy!" she commanded. "Well, I rather hoped you were going to present them," said Mrs. Moore, rising too, and gathering up sunshade and gloves. They threaded the silent garden paths again, passed the house, and crossed a neglected stable yard, where a great red motor-car had crushed a path for itself across dry grass and weeds. In the stable itself they found Sidney Carolan, the little Peter, and a couple of servants--the chauffeur with oily hands, and the wrinkled old Italian maid, very gay in scarlet gown and headdress. Jean's husband had all the Carolan beauty and charm, and was his most gracious and radiant self to-day. His sunny cordiality gave Mary no chance to remember that she had a little feared the writer and critic. But, after the first moment, her eye was irresistibly drawn to the child. Tawny-haired, erect, and astonishing in the perfection of his childish beauty, Peter Carolan advanced her a bronzed, firm little hand, and gave her with it a smile that seemed all brilliant color--white teeth, ocean-blue eyes, and poppied cheeks. His square little figure was very boyish in the thin silk shirt and baggy knickerbockers, and a wide hat, slipping from his yellow mane, added a last debonair touch to his picturesque little person. He was flushed, but gracious and at ease.