DURING dinner both Ruth and Ethel were aware of some sub-interest in the Judge's manner; his absent-mindedness was unusual, and once Ruth saw a faint smile that nothing evident could have induced.

Unconsciously also he set a tone of constraint and hurry; the meal was not loitered over, the conversation flagged, and all rose from the table with a sense of relief; perhaps, indeed, with a feeling of expectation.
They entered the parlor together, and the mastiff rose to meet them, asking permission to remain with the little coaxing push of his nose which brought the ready answer: "Certainly, Sultan.

Make yourself comfortable." Then they grouped themselves round the fire, and the Judge lit his cigar and looked at Ethel in a way that instantly brought curiosity to the question: "You have a secret, father," she said.

"Is it about grandmother ?" "It is news rather than a secret, Ethel.

And grandmother has a good deal to do with it, for it is about her family--the Mostyns." "Oh!" The tone of Ethel's "Oh!" was not encouraging, and Ruth's look of interest held in abeyance was just as chilling.