"Dad," he said, "do you think Natalie belongs to the Old Guard?" "The Old Guard?" repeated Leighton, vacantly. Then a gleam of-light dawned in his eyes. "Your little pal--the Old Guard. No, she doesn't belong in the way of a recruit; she hasn't joined the ranks. Do you want to know why? Because, boy, your little pal and women like her are the foundation, the life's blood, of the Old Guard. She doesn't have to join. She is, was, and always will be the Old Guard itself. In her single heart she holds the seven worlds of women." "But, Dad," said Lewis, half turning in his seat, "you don't know Natalie. You've never once talked to her." Leighton shrugged his shoulders. "I've met lots of men that know God; I've never seen one that could prove him. I know Natalie better--better----" Then suddenly his mind trailed off to its desert place. He would speak no more that night. The next day they were off. Action and movement brought a measure of relief from the very start. Leighton glanced almost eagerly from the windows of the hurrying train, watching for the sudden turn and the new view. There remained in his eyes, however, a desperate question. Was "going away" still the sovereign cure? At New York a cable awaited him. He opened it, read it, and turned bruskly to Lewis. "I'm not going to London," he said. "I'm going to Naples direct. Old Ivory will wait for me there. You'll be going to London, I suppose." For the first time Lewis felt far away from his father. He flushed. He felt like crying, because it came upon him suddenly that he was far away from his father, that they had been traveling different roads for many days. Pride came to his aid. "Yes," he said, steadily, "I shall go to London." Leighton nodded and turned to Nelton. He gave him a string of rapid orders, to which Nelton answered with his frequent and unfailing: "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." "Wait here," said Leighton. "I'm going to answer this." He hurried away, and Lewis, feeling unaccountably tired, sat down on a divan. Nelton remained on guard beside the bags, repulsing the attacks of too anxious bell-boys. To him came a large, heavy-faced person, pensively plying a toothpick. "Say, young feller," he said, "how much do you get?" Nelton stared, dumfounded, at the stranger. "How much do I get?" he stammered. "Yep, just that," said the stranger. "What's your pay?" Helton's face turned a brick red. He glared steadily into the stranger's eyes, but said nothing. "Well, well, never mind the figure if you're ashamed of it," said the stranger, calmly. "This is my offer. If you'll shake your boss and come to me, I'll double your pay every year so long as you stick to that 'Yes, sir, thank you, sir,' talk and manner. What do you say? Is it a deal?" "What do I s'y?" repeated Nelton, licking his lips. Lewis, grinning on the lounge, was eavesdropping with all his ears. "H--m--m," said the stranger, "double your pay every year _if you keep it up_."