“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter, except that it has upset mother so dreadfully. But she’ll get over it—if nothing happens.” “Nothing will happen—if by that you mean a death in the family. More likely a marriage will take place!” “Not ours, Jeff. I think that bugler sounded the death-knell of our hopes.” “Maida! What is the matter with you? Why are you talking like that? I know you’ve something on your mind that you haven’t told me yet. Something pretty serious, for it makes you say the strangest things! Tell me, darling, won’t you?” “I can’t, Jeff. I mean, there isn’t anything. Wait till those people come back again. You’ll be here, won’t you? They’re coming to-morrow.” “You bet I will! I’ll see what I can do with old curmudgeon. You know I’m argumentative.” “That won’t do any good with Appleby. What he wants is help from dad. If he doesn’t get that, he’ll punish us all.” “And he can’t get that, for your dad won’t give it. So it looks as if we must all take our punishment. Well, we’re prepared.” “You wouldn’t speak so lightly if you knew everything!” “That’s why I ask you to tell me everything. Do, Maida, I’m sure I can help you.” “Wait till they come,” was all Maida would say in response to his repeated requests. And at last they came. Smiling and hearty, Samuel Appleby reëntered the Wheeler home, apparently as self-assured and hopeful as when he left it. Keefe was courteous and polite as always and Genevieve Lane was prettier than ever by reason of some new Boston-bought clothes. Allen was introduced to the newcomers and sized up by one glance of Samuel Appleby’s keen eyes. Privately he decided that this young man was a very formidable rival of his son. But he greeted Allen with great cordiality, which Jeff thought it best to return, although he felt an instinctive dislike for the man’s personality. “Come along with me, Maida,” and with daring familiarity, Genevieve put her hand through Maida’s arm and drew her toward the stairs. “I have the same room, I s’pose,” she babbled on; “I’ve lots of new things I want to show you. And,” she added as they entered the room, and she closed the door, “I want a talkfest with you before the others begin.” “What about?” asked Maida, feeling the subject would be one of importance. “Well, it’s just this. And don’t be too shocked if I speak right out in meetin’. I’ve determined to marry into this bunch that I’m working for.” “Have you?” laughed Maida. “Are they equally determined?” “I’m not joking—I’m in dead earnest. A poor girl has got to do the best she can for herself in this cold world. Well, I’m going to corral one of the three: old man Appleby, young man Appleby, or Curt Keefe.” “Which one, for choice?” Maida still spoke lightly. “You don’t think I’m in earnest, but I am. Well, I’d rather have young Sam. Next, I’d choose his father; and, lastly, I’m pretty sure I could nail Curtie Keefe.”