The Prince of Graustark. George Barr McCutcheon

are coming back here to dinner," she said, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I shall put you between them, Mr. Blithers. You will find that they are very bright, attractive girls."

      "We'll see," said he succinctly.

      King caught them up at the top of the steps. He seemed to be slightly out of breath.

      "Make yourself at home, Mr. Blithers. I must get into something besides these duds I'm wearing," he said. "Would you like to—er—wash up while we're—"

      "No, thanks," interposed Mr. Blithers. "I'm as clean as a whistle. Don't mind me, please. Run along and dress, both of you. I'll sit out here and—count the minutes," the last with a very elaborate bow to Mrs. King.

      "Dinner's at half-past eight," said she, and disappeared. Mr. Blithers recalled his last glance at his watch, and calculated that he would have at least fifty minutes to count, provided dinner was served promptly on the dot.

      "You will excuse me if I leave you—"

      "Don't mention it, old man," said the new guest, rather more curtly than he intended. "I'll take it easy."

      "Shall I have the butler telephone to Blitherwood to say that you won't be home to dinner?"

      "It would be better if he were to say that I wasn't home to dinner," said Mr. Blithers. "It's over by this time."

      "Something to drink while you're—"

      "No, thanks. I can wait," and he sat down.

      "You don't mind my—"

      "Not at all."

      Mr. Blithers settled himself in the big porch chair and glowered at the shadowy hills on the opposite side of the valley. The little cottage of the Feltons came directly in his line of vision. He scowled more deeply than before. At the end of fifteen minutes he started up suddenly and, after a quick uneasy glance about him, started off across the lawn, walking more rapidly than was his wont.

      He had remembered that his chauffeur was waiting for him with the car just around a bend in the road—and had been waiting for two hours or more.

      "Go home," he said to the man. "Come back at twelve. And don't use the cut-out going up that hill, either."

      Later on, he met the Prince. Very warmly he shook the tall young man's hand—he even gave it a prophetic second squeeze—and said:

      "I am happy to welcome you to the Catskills, Prince."

      "Thank you," said Prince Robin.