Cynthia Moore scrutinized her list. “All right! We have varied it agreeably! We began with ‘gift of the bridegroom, one hundred thousand dollars,’ and we drift along to a pigskin purse, value one dollar fifty, I should say, and close with a medium note, a little four thousand! Tell me about Ramsay.” Miss Moore had arrived the day before, coming back with the Herefords from the races, to a large house party of which Jack Hereford, son of the house, home from France, and Captain Ralph Ramsay were part. “Jack’s crazy about him,” said Mrs. Hereford. “He is Jack’s best friend.” “’M!” murmured Miss Moore. “Excuse me, my dear! You have a soft spot in your heart for Jack. I don’t understand it--I never have.” Mrs. Hereford went on. “They have been together for two years in France in the same sector. Captain Ramsay is an ace with a ripping record, as you know.” “No,” returned the bridesmaid, giving her book up to Mrs. Hereford, “I don’t know anything about him.” Miss Moore was an unusually understanding young person; some people said she had ten senses where others have only seven. “Well!” said the lady of the house. “He is quite poor; lots of nice people are. He is from the West as you can hear by his accent.” “No one has a chance to hear much of his accent but you! He never speaks to any one else.” “Ridiculous!” said the lady of the house. “Jack told me that every one in the sector from the mascot to the colonel was crazy about Ralph, and as you see, he has all the medals that can be won.” “Too bad he couldn’t have worked off a few on Jack,” said Cynthia. “Jack is as bare as a bone, and his father seems to have it in for him harder than ever! What has Jack done since he was demobilized, Nell?” Mrs. Hereford shook her head. “Don’t ask me! My husband doesn’t like my interference. I learned that and I don’t try to know. Jack is going to California to-morrow. He is going on with aviation, and I hope will go into the United States army for good. I _hope_ he will.” “Too bad!” murmured Miss Moore. For in her kind and understanding heart there was a very warm place for the master of the house. “Too bad such a fine man as Tommy should have a son like Jack.” “You are very unfair to him,” said the lady of the house warmly. “I think I am the only one to understand him. I believe the very best of Jack, and I know he’ll come out all right. He has a good military record over there.” Miss Moore laughed. “Well, he did not get shot in the back! I know I’m rotten, but--” She came impulsively over to her friend and put her arms around her. “Now the Earl of Moray is another thing. _He’s_ all right. You can see his record on his face and on his breast, and I excuse his ‘stounin’ through the town’ and his entire absorption in another woman--he is all right!” Cynthia Moore kissed Mrs. Hereford and then went upstairs to Patricia, who had been waiting for her for the last half hour. The lady of the house was not sorry to be alone.