“Why, Governor Abercrombie, what a trump you are! I’d no idea you’d be sympathetic! Aunt Anne will listen to you, of course. But I’m going into business in New York, so I don’t suppose you can help me to get rich--no end grateful just the same! It’s enough if you can help me with Aunt Anne.” “Political influence reaches out farther than you may think, my boy; I’ll get at your business in some way, trust me! I’d like to see Miss Dallas. Think it can be managed?” asked Mr. Abercrombie. “She won’t see me,” Kit admitted, cheerfully. “But that’s a temporary state of things. We shall be married soon, that’s certain. I wonder--wouldn’t it be a good thing to get Aunt Anne to ask her here? Her cousin, Edwin Wilberforce, the artist, is staying with his great friend, Mr. Latham. I wonder if Aunt Anne could be persuaded to ask Anne and her cousin here together? It’s such a neat way out of a mess to ignore it with a casual invitation!” “Wilberforce, the artist, her cousin?” Mr. Abercrombie looked so pleased that there could be no question of his sincere desire to smooth the course of this true love. “If your aunt cares about connections there is glory in being Edwin Wilberforce’s cousin! It seems to me, my boy, that we shall certainly have Miss Carrington pouring libations to Eros!” Mr. Abercrombie found that it was easier to veto a state law than to alter the unwritten law of a woman’s will. His stay was not long enough to bring Miss Carrington to the point of striking her colours. She would not gratify him by admitting the justice of the proposition which he laid before her. Helen’s kindly father left Cleavedge at two o’clock on the following day. At the informal dinner of the evening of his arrival Mr. Abercrombie had met and accepted Helen’s future husband. Kit thought that it was not a wholly agreeable duty; several times he caught Mr. Abercrombie watching George Lanbury and scrutinizing Helen. Helen was at her best beauty and brilliance. Lanbury was entirely sure of himself, treated her father with easy assurance and Kit with condescending amusement. Not only Kit, but also Helen’s father, knew that he believed himself to have stolen the girl from Kit’s longing arms and that Kit was suffering in consequence, though he succeeded in not wearing his heart upon the sleeve of either of these defrauded limbs. “Helen will put it all over him, but he will not always be pleasant,” thought the astute father. “She was right to want this gallant boy.” The next day Miss Carrington was nervously anxious to have the hour of departure arrive; she was ill enough to want everything that was to happen to be quickly over and done. She did not attempt to go to the station, but bade Helen good-bye in her library. Helen lightly kissed Miss Carrington farewell. She was regal in her gray-green costume with its small hat, a touch of gold its sole ornament, risking comparison with her hair and losing by the venture.