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In the evening Mr. Port found another surprise awaiting him. Miss Lee presently retired from the veranda for the avowed purpose of searching for a missing fan, thus leaving the two gentlemen together.

“What a charming girl your niece is, Port!” said Mr. Brown, as the fluttering train of Dorothy’s dress disappeared through the door-way.

Mr. Port evidently considered that this possibly debatable statement was sufficiently answered by a grunt, for that was all the answer he gave it.

Not permitting his enthusiasm to be checked by this chillingly dubious response, Mr. Brown continued:

“She certainly is one of the most charming girls I have met in a long time, Port. She is not a bit like the average of young girls nowadays. I rarely have known a young person of either sex to be so genuinely interested in genealogy, especially in Philadelphia genealogy; and I must say that her liking for antiquarian matters generally is very remarkable. I envy you, I really envy you, old boy, the blessing of that sweet young creature’s constant companionship.”

“Umph–do you?” was Mr. Port’s concise and rather discouraging reply.

“Indeed I do”–Mr. Brown was too warm to notice the cynical tone of his friend’s rejoinder–“and I have been thinking, Port, that we are a pair of selfish old wretches to monopolize every evening in the way that we have been doing this bright young flower. It is a shame for us to keep her in our stupid company–though she tells me that she finds our talk about old people and old times exceedingly interesting–instead of letting her have a little of the young society and a little of the excitement and pleasure of watering-place life. Now, how would it do for us to take her down to the Casino to-night? There is to be a hop to-night, she says; at least, that is to say”–Mr. Brown became somewhat confused–“I heard somewhere that there is to be a hop tonight, and while that sort of thing is pretty stupid for you and me, it isn’t a bit stupid for a young and pretty girl like her. So suppose we take her, old man?”

As this amazing proposition was advanced by his elderly friend, Mr. Port’s anger and astonishment were aroused together; and his rude rejoinder to it was: “Have you gone crazy, Brown, or has Dorothy been making a fool of you? Has she asked you to ask me to take her to the Casino hop? She knows there is no use in talking to me about it any longer.”

“No, certainly not–at least–that is to say–well, no, not exactly,” replied Mr. Brown, beginning his sentence with an asperity and positiveness that somehow did not hold out to its end. “She did say to me, I confess, how fond she was of dancing, and how she had refrained from saying much about it to you”–Mr. Port here interpolated a sceptical snort–“because she knew that taking her to the Casino would only bore you. And I do think, Port, that keeping her here with us all the time is grossly selfish; and if you don’t want to take her to the hop I hope you’ll let her go with me. But what we’d better do, old man, is to take her together–then we can talk to each other just as well, at least nearly as well, as we can here, and we can have the comfort of knowing that she is enjoying herself too. Come, Hutch; we’re getting old and rusty, you and I, but let us try at least to keep from degenerating into a pair of selfish old brutes with no care for anybody’s comfort but our own.”

Mr. Hutchinson Port might have replied with a fair amount of truth that so far as he himself was concerned the degeneration that his friend referred to as desirable to avoid already had taken place. But all of us like most to be credited with the virtues of which we have least, and he therefore accepted as his due Mr. Brown’s tribute of implied praise. And the upshot of the matter was that Dorothy, when she returned to the veranda again, was unaffectedly surprised (and considering how carefully she had planned her small campaign she did it very creditably) by discovering that her uncle’s edict against the Casino hops had been withdrawn.