amounted toa reception, for they were not only a sort of officialnotification to New York that one of its most prominent hostesseswas once more in its midst, but were also designed to

rt to consider it injudicious of her notto have been born a boy, and he always took in New Yo

ing Genius from its hiding-place and bringing itinto the open. At different spots in the room stood the sixresident geniuses to whose presence in the home Mr. Pett had suchstrong objections, and in addition to these she had collected somany more of a like breed from th

ions drank tea with

hohad been practising them for years without realising it. All

es. He was a massive, weather-beaten man, who looked verylike Ann in some ways and would have looked more like her but forthe misfortune

this sort of th

mind it,"

ut I'm glad I'mpulling out of here this evening. Wh

er, the feminist writer. That's ClaraWhat's-her-name, the sculptor, with the bo

esn't he come to these

ng the multitude. Wheneverthe mass tended to congeal, something always seemed to stir it upagain. This was due to the restless activity of Mrs. Pett, whoheld it to be the duty of a good hostess to keep her guestsmoving. From the moment when the room began to fill till themoment when it began to empty she did not cease to plough her wayto and fro, in a manner equally reminiscent of a hawk swooping onchickens and an earnest collegian bucking the line. Her guestswere as a result perpetually forming new ententes andcombinations, finding themsel

nd removed a tall, blonde youngman with a mild, vacuous face. For the past few minutes thisyoung man had been sitting bolt upright on a chair with his hands

wed her fat

with aletter of introduction from you. You met him in Canada.""I remember now. I ran across him in British Columbia. We campedtogether one night. I'd never seen him before and I didn't seehim again. He said he wanted a letter to old Pete for somereason, so I

hidden virtues in LordWisbeach, father. I'v

ong-legged child in short skirts. "Isuppose you're refusing them all the time?""Every day from ten to four, with an hour off for lunch. I keepregular office hours. Admission on presentation of visitingcard.""And how do you feel about this Lord Wisbeach?""I don't know," said Ann frankly. "He's very nice.

on't mean that exactly; I mean that it is acomfort to me AS your father--to kno

what you wanted ever since you were a kid. . . . Well, ifyou're going to take me down to the boat, we'd better bestarting. Where's th

k of coyotes and fight

ying good-bye when I'm only going to be away ashort time. I shan't go any furth

h, who was now inanimated conversation with her aunt and Willie Partridge; thenshe followed her fat

him to help her decide a problem whichhad been vexing her for nearly three weeks now, ever since LordWisbeach had asked her to marry him and she had promised to givehim his answer on her return from England.

at, fussed over his comfort for awhilein a motherly way, and then drove slowly back. For the first timein her life she was feeling uncertain of herself. When she hadleft for England, she had practically made u

ch baffled her, the idea of marrying Lord Wisbeach hadbecome vaguely distaste

thespeed of the machine. She knew that Lord Wisbeach would bew

her father, anddecided that it was. His swift entrances into and exits from herlife always left her temporarily

great thinker disturbed inmid-thought. He always looked like that when spoken to, and therewere those--Mr. Pett belonged to this school of thought--who heldthat there was nothing to him beyond that look

ing the lastyear of his life was common knowledge in those circles which areinterested in such things. Foreign governments were understood tohave made tentative overtures to him. But a sudden illness,ending fatally, had finished the budding career of Partridgiteabruptly, and the world had thought no more of it until aninterview in the _Sunday Chronicl

beach'singenuous countenance, Willie paused, and his face

isbeach!

ismanner. He plunged cheerily into talk. He had a pleasant,

s at home before long. I saw a lot of our War Office menwhen I was in England, don't you know. Several of them mentionedthe stuff.

eed?"

or-other, I forget what, but it was amost decent little contrivance and very useful and all that; andhe simply can't get them to say Yes or No about it. But, all thesame, I wonder you didn't have some of them trying to put outfeelers to you when you were in London.""Oh, we were only in London a few hours. By t

world of good. Yes, Jimmy Crocker and I have always been great

turned to Willieagain to cover himself. "How are

d "the stuff,"he was still less in favour of its be

e jolly old stuff.""Struck a snag?" e

Ihave enough Partridgite in my laboratory to blow New York tobit

important nod. He was tired of LordWisbeach's society. There was something about the young

expression haddropped from his face like a mask.

n prevented herfrom replying. Much as she liked Lord Wisbeach, she had nevergiven him credit

ewhere. In that safe inyour library. News of this kind moves like lightning. At thisvery moment, there may be people watching for a chance of gettingat the stuff."Every nerve in Mrs. Pett's body, every cell of a brain which had

?" she q

agents. Every country has its men whose only duty it isto handle this sor

ce which would amazeyou. Perfectly straight men in private life, but absolutelyunscrupulous when at work. They stick at nothing--nothing. If Iwere you, I should suspe

ach," saidMrs. Pett horrified. "I trust you implicitly. Even supposing sucha thing were possible, would y

spect everybody but me

ispered, "don't look

up of young men who, very improperly in such surroundings,were discussing with raised voices the prospects of the clubscompeting for the National League Baseball Pennant. Then,extending the sweep of her gaze, she saw that she had beenmistak

inner.""Ah, your _new_ butler? He hasn't been with you long, then?""He only arrived from England three days ago.""From England? How did he get in here? I

as the butler who adm

e wanted to come over. The mandid not give any definite answer then, but apparently he sailedon t

lanted there for thepurpose.""What ough

,except keep your eyes open. Watch this man Skinner. See if he h

g of a large sample ofPartridgite; until a moment later it began to resemble morenearly the shrieks of some partially destroyed victim of thatdeath-dealing invention. It was a bellow of anguish, and

separate and distinct discussions on twelve highlyintellectual topics died instantaneously. It was as if the lasttrump had sounded. Futurist pai

us enabling it to carryits message to one at least of the listeners. Mrs. Pett, after amoment of strai

stairs two at a time,gathering speed as s