"Well, but--" Madeline looked from one to the other sharply. "Dick, whomare you writing for now?" she demanded.

"For myself. I'm running a magazine."

"'The Quiver'?"

Mr. Blake nodded. "Yes, have you seen it? I've sent one or two numbers toyour father on the chance of their finding him in some far corner of theearth."

"So that's it," exclaimed Madeline enigmatically, ignoring the question. "NowI understand. I--well, the point is, Dick, do whatever Betty Wales wantsyou to. You may depend upon it that she knows what she's about.Everything she tells you will be on the straight."

Mr. Richard Blake threw back his head and laughed a hearty, kidish laugh."You haven't changed a bit, Madeline," he exclaimed. "You expect me to be yourhumble chessman and no questions asked, exactly as you did in the ageddays. I can't promise what you want now," he added soberly, "but Iheartily subscribe to what you say about Miss Wales. See here"--hereached hastily for his watch--"I was going to a tea, wasn't I? Do I dareto cut it out?"

Morgan hesitated and looked at Madeline, who shook her head decidedly."Never. This isn't Bohemia, you know. Run along, Dick. I'll look at you to-night if I can get a chance, and if not you'll surely be round atEaster?"

"Rather," exclaimed Mr. Richard Blake, striding hurriedly down the hall.