“How about your grandfather’s will, under which you inherit this house and most of your fortune? Have you forgotten that you’re required to inhabit the house, from now on, at least three months out of every six until you’re married?” “So I have. Happy alternative! Lose the house or parade the family skeletons all diked out in pink sashes and tin-can labels. When does the blasted suit come on?” “I don’t know. When I do I’ll let you know. Then it’s up to you either to stand a siege in the house or to light out and go into hiding, and take a chance on getting back within the three months.” “Well, Connor,” said Jacob Remsen after the lawyer had left, “here’s a complication for a peace-and-quiet-loving young man! How did such a respectable person as you ever come to take service in such a herd of black sheep?” “I don’t know anything about those goings-on, sir,” asseverated the old man doggedly. “If they put me in jail the rest of my life I couldn’t remember ever hearing a word about any of ’em, sir.” “Good man! Don’t you testify to anything that would tend to incriminate or degrade the memory of Uncle Simeon or any other Remsen. And neither will I. However, this isn’t dressing for dinner.” Having changed, young Mr. Remsen returned to dine with Gloria Greene. He found her smiling over a note which she carefully blotted before turning from her desk to greet him. “What did you think of my protégée?” she inquired. “I’m collecting opinions on her.” “The little Colter girl? She isn’t as sniffy as she appears at first sight.” “Her name isn’t Colter. And I don’t know how you can judge. First sight is all that you had of her.” “Not so, fair lady. She passed me in the hallway as I was waiting for a taxi to come along. I could see her nerving herself up to say something and finally she said it.” “Well, what was it?” “Nothing important. Just that she was sorry she couldn’t sing for me and that some other time she would. But she said it quite pleasantly. She hasn’t a bad voice.” “Effect of Lesson the First,” commented the actress. “What are you doing with that young person, Gloria? Working some of your white magic on her?” “Just remaking life a little for her,” replied the other offhandedly. “This is part of it.” She fluttered the note-paper on which she had been writing. “What is it?” asked Remsen. “A pass to Paradise? She looked as cheered-up as if she were getting something of the kind.” “It’s a commutation ticket to Hades, first-class,” was the actress’s Delphic response. “But the poor child won’t know it till she gets there.” CHAPTER IV