"To come down to cases, sir, she ought to be sent to a good boarding-school for a few years. It'll make a new woman of her--a woman to be proud of. She's got that in her--it only needs to be brought out." "And before you leave, sir," said the colonel with significant precision, "will you be so kind as to inform me why you think this should interest me?" "No," said Duncan candidly; "I haven't got the nerve to. But what I wanted to propose was this: that you lend me five hundred dollars to cover the expense of the first year, on condition that I represent the money as coming from the profits of the business and, in short, keep the transaction between ourselves absolutely quiet. If you'll inquire of Mr. Kellogg he'll tell you I can be trusted to keep my word. Furthermore"--he galloped, suspecting that his time was perilously short and desiring to get it all out of his system--"I'll guarantee you repayment within a year, and that you shan't be annoyed this way a second time." Bohun looked him over from head to foot, bowed in silence, and turning--both had stood throughout this passage--grasped a bell-rope by the chimney, and pulled it violently. Duncan turned to the door, hat in hand, realising that he had his answer and was lucky to get away with one so mild. Only the emergency could have spurred him to the point of so outrageous an impertinence. In the desolate fastnesses of that dreary house somewhere a bell tinkled discordantly. A moment later the white-headed darky butler opened the door. "Suh?" he said. Colonel Bohun essayed to speak, cleared his throat angrily, and indicated Duncan with a courteous gesture. "Scipio," said he, "this gentleman will have a glass of wine with me." "Yassuh!" stammered the negro, overcome with astonishment. Bohun turned to his guest. "Won't you be seated, Mr. Duncan?" he said. "You have interested me considerably, sir, and I should be glad to discuss the matter with you." Speechless, Duncan gasped incoherently and moved toward a chair as the servant reappeared with a tray on which was a decanter of sherry and two old-fashioned, thin-stemmed crystal glasses. He placed this on the library table, filled the glasses, and at a sign from Bohun retired. "Sir," said the colonel, indicating the tray, "to you." "I--I thank you, sir." Duncan lifted one of the glasses. Bohun took up the one remaining, and held it toward his guest with the gracious gesture of a bygone day. "I hold it a privilege, sir," he said, "to drink to the only gentleman of spirit it's been my good fortune to meet this many a year." By way of an aside, it should be mentioned that this was the first and only drink Duncan took while he lived in Radville. XVII TRACEY'S TROUBLES