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"Good-bye, Smith." I have never liked my last name, but at that moment the boys contrived to put a kindness of tone into it which made it

"Richard Thorndyke Smith! My dear boy," she cried, while the nieces gasped at each other with gestures and looks all the way between Terpsichore and Melpomene, and then the four cried in chorus, "We know your mother!"

I surrender, he said, with amiable ease.

"Ferry's scouts. What command is yours, gentlemen?"

"'The beating of our own hearts

"Pardon me, I know better. This is his scheme." She laid her free hand on our two. "Tell me you will not go to that house!"

"She air!" He was pleased. "Yass, we all good frien's togetheh."

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