Mr. Carter trailed the colonel’s tall, thin figure across the lawn, and the two pointers came to meet them. “Down, Jim! Down, Rover!” ordered the colonel, reaching the tree. “There--if you’ll look close along that lower limb--see?” His visitor approached the limb indicated and stared at it moodily. Then he swallowed hard. “Think it’s scale?” the colonel asked anxiously. “Darned if I know!” said Mr. Carter violently. “Denbigh, I came to tell you---- The fact is, my son’s made an ass of himself. He----” “Yes?” the colonel stood still, politely amazed. “Which son, Carter?” “William. He--he’s married!” There was a little silence and then the colonel laughed dryly. “Was that what ailed you? On my word, Carter, I began to think you’d got creeping paralysis of the brain. Who’s he married?” “I don’t know.” “What!” “No, I don’t! It’s some French girl--Fanchon--there, I can’t remember! We just heard this morning. The--the young donkey hasn’t known her three months.” Colonel Denbigh broke off a twig and began to whittle it. “Case of love at first sight, I presume,” he commented calmly. “I wouldn’t take it so hard, Carter, you may like her.” Mr. Carter made an inarticulate sound which ended in his throat. His eyes avoided the colonel’s. “Mrs. Carter’s all broken up,” he said hoarsely. “It’s a shock. Of course we don’t know anything. But--that is--I--I’m afraid, William’s behaved badly. Virginia, you know?” Colonel Denbigh started slightly. Then he closed his pocket-knife and put it in his pocket. “What about Virginia?” he asked quietly. Mr. Carter hesitated, then he reddened. “You know how we all love you and Virginia,” he said hurriedly. “We--we hoped there was something--the fact is, Emily says William was--was engaged to Virginia. I--I want to know, Colonel. I want to know if my boy’s behaved like that?” “You’re mistaken, Mr. Carter,” replied the colonel loftily. “No man who was engaged to Virginia Denbigh could, or would, forget it.” “But, Colonel, I thought----” Mr. Carter was purple now with embarrassment. “You’re mistaken, sir,” the colonel held his head high, “entirely mistaken.” Mr. Carter felt like a gold fish splashed out of its globe. He gasped and swallowed hard. He remembered, too, that his wife had told him not to come. “You’ll only make a mess of it, papa,” she had warned him, between her sobs, “You’re always putting your foot in it!” “I beg your pardon, Colonel. I--well, you see--it was because I think so much of her--of Virginia, I mean, that I came. I--I thought if my boy--my boy, William Henry Carter, had done a thing like that-- Well, sir, I’d feel like disowning him!” The colonel stood still. He had thrust his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat, and his eyes were fixed on the distant road. “You were mistaken, sir, that’s all. There comes Jinny now.”