Colonel Craighill smiled indulgently in the enjoyment of his daughter’s eagerness. “Tell us everything--her just being from Vermont doesn’t mean much. Is she a blonde?” “Well,” replied Colonel Craighill, colouring slightly, “Now that I think of it, I believe she is!” “I knew it!” exclaimed Mrs. Blair; “they’re always blondes! What are her eyes?” “Blue.” “Stout or thin?” “I think her proportions are about right for her age.” “Which is----?” “Twenty-nine.” “Are you sure about that, papa? You know they sometimes forget to count their birthdays.” “Whom do you mean by _they_?” asked Colonel Craighill guardedly. “I mean the members of my delightful sex. Let me see, you are sixty-five, if I remember right. Twice twenty-nine is”--she made the computation on her slim, supple fingers--“fifty-eight: you’re rather more than twice her age.” “It would be more polite, to say that she’s rather less than half mine.” “Oh, it all gets to the same place! It will have the advantage of making me appear young to have a stepmother a few years my junior. But what a blow to these old dowagers who have been suspected of having designs on you! They little knew that all the time they were pursuing you to consult about their investments or church or charity schemes, you were casting about for some lovely young thing still in the lawful possession of her own hair and teeth. Why, if I’d known that was your idea there are lots of nice girls here in town that I should love to have in the family. Wayne, you will be careful not to flirt with her!” “Fanny!” Colonel Craighill struck the table so sharply that the candlesticks jumped. He was angry, and the colour deepened in his face. “Please, papa,--I didn’t mean to be rude!” Mrs. Blair touched her father’s coat-sleeve lightly with her hand. She loved her brother very dearly, and the effect upon him of this marriage was already, in her vivid imagination, the chief thing in it. She had long felt that her father had given Wayne up; that he believed the passion for drink that took hold of his son at times was in the nature of a disease, to be suffered patiently and borne with Christian fortitude. Wayne was vexed at his sister’s manner; he disliked contention and there was nothing to be gained by being disagreeable over their father’s marriage. He left the room to find fresh cigarettes and when he came back the air had cleared. Colonel Craighill, anxious on his part to be conciliatory, was laughing at a renewal of Fanny’s cross-questioning. “Where did Miss Allen attend school?” she was asking. “I believe she had private teachers,” replied Colonel Craighill, though not positively. “And she isn’t a teacher herself or a philanthropist? Has she money?”