Bess made Dorothy promise to have Richard back for her own wedding in October; Mr. Fopling gave Richard a pleading glance as though he himself would require support on that occasion. "Stawms, don't fail me," said Mr. Fopling. "Weally, I shall need all the couwage my fwiends can give me. And you know, Stawms, I stood by you." Mrs. Hanway-Harley supposed the happy ones were to take the B. & O. for New York; Richard explained that they would have a boat. "In fact," said Richard, "the captain has just sent me word that the yacht is anchored off the Navy Yard, awaiting our going aboard." "Yacht?" said Mrs. Hanway-Harley. "Oh, I see; Mr. Gwynn's." "No, not Mr. Gwynn's. Ours."--And Richard looked more lamblike than ever. Mrs. Hanway-Harley became sorely puzzled. The truth was slowly soaking into her not over-porous comprehension. As the launch, with the wedding party, rounded the yacht's stern to reach her gangway on the off-shore side, Mrs. Hanway-Harley read in letters of raised gilt: _Dorothy Storms_. She called Dorothy's attention to the phenomenon in a misty way. Mrs. Hanway-Harley, once aboard, went over the _Dorothy Storms_, forward and aft, speaking no word. The yacht, Clyde-built, was a swift ocean-going vessel of twelve hundred tons. Her fittings were the fittings of a palace. Mrs. Hanway-Harley cornered Richard on the after-deck. "Richard," said Mrs. Hanway-Harley, "what took Mr. Gwynn abroad?" "Why," responded Richard, with a cheerful manner of innocence, "you see there's a deal for Mr. Gwynn to do. There's the country house in Berks, and the house in London; then there's the Paris house and the villa at Nice, and lastly the place in the mountains back of Naples;--Mr. Gwynn will have to put them in order. The one near Naples--a kind of old castle, it is--has been in bad hands; there will be plenty of work in that quarter for Mr. Gwynn, I fancy. You know, mother,"--and Richard donned an air of filial confidence,--"since this is Dorothy's first look at them, I'm more than commonly anxious she should be given a happy----" Where the wretched Richard would have maundered to will never be known, for he was broken in upon by Mrs. Hanway-Harley. "Richard, who is Mr. Gwynn?" This with a severe if agitated gravity. "Who is Mr. Gwynn?" "Who is Mr. Gwynn?" repeated Richard, blandly. "Well, really, I suppose he might be called my major-domo; or perhaps butler would describe him." "You told me that Mr. Gwynn had had about him the best society of England." Mrs. Hanway-Harley's manner bordered upon the tragic, for it bore upon her that she had given a dinner of honor to Mr. Gwynn. "Why, my dear mother, and so he has had. I can't remember all their noble names, but one time and another Mr. Gwynn has been butler for the Duke of This and the Earl of That--really Mr. Gwynn's recommendations read like a leaf from 'Burke's Peerage.' I myself had him from the Baron Sudley."