"A new broom, etc.," murmured Elsie. "His predecessor never was a new broom," retorted Lawson, quickly. "Sennett always had a nasty slaunch to him. He never in his life cleaned the dirt from the corners, and I don't see exactly why you take such pains in defending him." "Because he is my uncle," she replied. "Uncle Boot-jack! That is pure fudge, Bee Bee. You didn't speak to him once a week; you privately despised him--anybody could see that. You are simply making a cudgel of him now to beat Curtis with--and, to speak plainly, I think it petty of you. More than this, you'd better hedge, for I'm not at all sure that Sennett has not been peculating." Elsie stopped him with an angry gesture. "I'll not have you accusing him behind his back." Lawson threw out his hands in a gesture of despair. "All right! But make a note of it: you'll regret this taking sides with a disreputable old bummer against an officer of Captain Curtis's reputation." "You are not my master!" she said, and her eyes were fiercely bright. "I do not wish to hear you use that tone to me again! I resent it!" and she struck the floor with her foot. "Henceforth, if we are to remain friends, you will refrain from lecturing me!" and she left the room with a feeling of having done two men a wrong by being unjust to herself, and this feeling deepened into shame as she lay in her bed that night. It was her first serious difference with Lawson and she grew unhappy over it. "But he shouldn't take sides against me like that," she said, in an attempt to justify her anger. On the second morning thereafter Lawson came into the office and said: "Well, Captain, we leave you this morning." Curtis looked up into his visitor's fine, sensitive face, and exclaimed, abruptly--almost violently: "I'm going to miss you, old man." "My heart's with you," replied Lawson. "And I shall return next spring." "Bring Miss Brisbane with you." "I'd like to do so, but she is vastly out of key--and I doubt. Meanwhile, if I can be of any use to you in Washington let me know." "Thank you, Lawson, I trust you perfectly," Curtis replied, with a glow of warm liking. As he stood at the gate looking up into Elsie's face, she seemed very much softened, and he wished to reach his hand and stay her where she sat; but the last word was spoken, and the wagon rolled away with no more definite assurance of her growing friendship than was to be read in a polite smile. Jennie was tearful as she said: "After all, they were worth while." Curtis sighed as he said: "Sis, the realities of our position begin to make themselves felt. Play-spells will be fewer now that our artists are gone." "They certainly broke our fall," replied Jennie, soberly. "Osborne Lawson is fine, and I don't believe Elsie Bee Bee is as ferocious as she pretends to be." "It's her training. She has breathed the air of rapacity from childhood. I can't blame her for being her father's child."