"Oh, ages and ages! It can't help it. Why, mother, there are such a lot of them, and such a whole lot about some of them. Others, that he doesn't know so much about, we're going to look up. He has lots of books on such things, and he's buying more all the time. Then all this stuff has got to be condensed and tabulated and put on cards and filed away. But I love it--every bit of it; and I'm so excited to think I've really begun it. And he's every whit as excited as I am, mother. Listen! He actually forgot all about running away to-night before I put on my hat. And I never thought of it till just as I was pinning it on. He had followed me out into the hall to tell me something about the old armor in the corner; then, all of a sudden, he stopped--_off--short_, just like that, and said, 'Good-night, Miss Darling,' in his old stiff way. As he turned and went upstairs I caught sight of his face. I knew then. It was the hat. I had reminded him again of--_her_. But I shan't mind, now, if he is stern and glum sometimes--not with a Babylonian tablet or a Chinese Buddha for company. Oh, mother, if you could see those wonderful things. But maybe sometime you will. I shouldn't wonder." "Maybe sometime--I--will!" faltered the mother, growing a little white. "Why, Betty, what do you mean?" "Why, I mean, maybe I can take you sometime-- I'll ask Mr. Denby by and by, after we get things straightened out, if he won't let me bring you some day to see them." "Oh, no, no, Betty, don't--_please_ don't! I--I couldn't think of such a thing!" Betty laughed merrily. "Why, mumsey, you needn't look so frightened. They won't bite you. There aren't any of those things _alive_, dear!" "No, of course not. But I'm--I'm sure I--I wouldn't be able to appreciate them at all." "But in London you were _trying_ to learn to be interested in such things," persisted Betty, still earnestly. "Don't you know? You said you _wanted_ to learn to like them, and to appreciate them." "Yes, I know. But I'm sure I wouldn't like to--to trouble Mr. Denby--here," stammered the mother, her face still very white. CHAPTER XXIII "THE PLOT THICKENS" It was shortly before Christmas that Frank Gleason ran up to Dalton. He went first to see Burke Denby. Burke greeted him with hearty cordiality. "Hullo, Gleason! Good--you're just in time for dinner. But where's your bag? You aren't going back to-night!" "No, but I am to-morrow morning, very early, so I left my grip at the hotel. Yes, yes, I know--you'd have had me here, and routed the whole house up at midnight," he went on laughingly, shaking his head at Burke's prompt remonstrations, "if I but said the word. But I'm not going to trouble you this time. I'll be delighted to stay to dinner, however,--if I get an invitation," he smiled. "An invitation! As if you needed an invitation for--anything, in this house," scoffed Denby. "All mine is thine, as you know very well."