Ted astonished his uncle, first by coming home a whole day earlier than he had been expected and second, by announcing his intention of seeing Robert Caldwell and making arrangements about the tutoring that very day.  He was more than usually uncommunicative about his house-party experiences the Doctor thought and fancied too that just at first after his return the boy did not meet his eyes quite frankly.  But this soon passed away and he was delighted and it must be confessed considerably astounded too to perceive that Ted really meant to keep his word about the studying and settled down to genuine hard work for perhaps the first time, in his idle, irresponsible young life.  He had been prepared to put on the screws if necessary.  There had been no need.  Ted had applied his own screws and kept at his uncongenial task with such grim determination that it almost alarmed his family, so contrary was his conduct to his usual light-hearted shedding of all obligations which he could, by hook or crook, evade.

Among other things to be noted with relief the doctor counted the fact that there were no more letters from Florence.  Apparently that flame which had blazed up rather brightly at first had died down as a good many others had.  Doctor Holiday was particularly glad in this case.  He had not liked the idea of his nephew’s running around with a girl who would be willing to go “joy-riding” with him after midnight, and still less had he liked the idea of his nephew’s issuing such invitations to any kind of girl.  Youth was youth and he had never kept a very tight rein on any of Ned’s children, believing he could trust them to run straight in the main.  Still there were things one drew the line at for a Holiday.

CHAPTER X

TONY DANCES INTO A DISCOVERY

Tony was dressing for dinner on her first evening at Crest House.  Carlotta was perched on the arm of a chair near by, catching up on mutual gossip as to events that had transpired since they parted a month before at Northampton.

“I have a brand new young man for you, Tony.  Alan Massey—­the artist.  At least he calls himself an artist, though he hasn’t done a thing but philander and travel two or three times around the globe, so near as I can make out, since somebody died and left him a disgusting big fortune.  Aunt Lottie hints that he is very improper, but anyway he is amusing and different and a dream of a dancer.  It is funny, but he makes me think a little bit once in a while of somebody we both know.  I won’t tell you who, and see if the same thing strikes you.”

A little later Tony met the “new young man.”  She was standing with her friend in the big living room waiting for the signal for dinner when she felt suddenly conscious of a new presence.  She turned quickly and saw a stranger standing on the threshold regarding her with a rather disconcertingly intent gaze.  He was very tall and foreign-looking, “different,” as Carlotta had said, with thick, waving blue-black hair, a clear, olive skin and deep-set, gray-green eyes.  There was nothing about him that suggested any resemblance to anyone she knew.  Indeed she had a feeling that there was nobody at all like him anywhere in the world.