“Many other women!” exclaimed the General.  “There may be; but I have not seen them lately.  As to ’a green country girl’—­why, they make the best wives in the world if you get the right kind.  What do you want?  One of these sophisticated, fashionable, strong-minded women—­a woman’s-rights woman?  Heaven forbid!  When a gentleman marries, he wants a lady and he wants a wife, a woman to love him; a lady to preside over his home, not over a woman’s meeting.”

Gordon quite agreed with him as to the principle; but he did not know about the instance cited.

“Why, I thought you had more discernment,” said the old gentleman.  “She is the sweetest creature I have seen in a long time.  She has both sense and sensibility.  If I were forty years younger, I should not be suggesting her to you, sir.  I should be on my knees to her for myself.”  And the old fellow buttoned his coat, straightened his figure, and looked quite spirited and young.

At the club, where Gordon introduced him, his father soon became quite a toast.  Half the habitues of the “big room” came to know him, and he was nearly always surrounded by a group listening to his quaint observations of life, his stories of old times, his anecdotes, his quotations from Plutarch or from “Dr. Johnson, sir.”

An evening or two after his appearance at the club, Norman Wentworth came in, and when the first greetings were over, General Keith inquired warmly after his wife.

“Pray present my compliments to her.  I have never had the honor of meeting her, sir, but I have heard of her charms from my son, and I promise myself the pleasure of calling upon her as soon as I have called on your mother, which I am looking forward to doing this evening.”

Norman’s countenance changed a little at the unexpected words, for half a dozen men were around.  When, however, he spoke it was in a very natural voice.

“Yes, my mother is expecting you,” he said quietly.  Mrs. Wentworth also would, he said, be very glad to see him.  Her day was Thursday, but if General Keith thought of calling at any other time, and would be good enough to let him know, he thought he could guarantee her being at home.  He strolled away.

“By Jove! he did it well,” said one of the General’s other acquaintances when Norman was out of ear-shot.

“You know, he and his wife have quarrelled,” explained Stirling to the astonished General.

“Great Heavens!” The old gentleman looked inexpressibly shocked.

“Yes—­Wickersham.”

“That scoundrel!”

“Yes; he is the devil with the women.”

Next evening, as the General sat with Stirling among a group, sipping his toddy, some one approached behind him.

Stirling, who had become a great friend of the General’s, greeted the newcomer.

“Hello, Ferdy!  Come around; let me introduce you to General Keith, Gordon Keith’s father.”

The General, with a pleasant smile on his face, rose from his chair and turned to greet the newcomer.  As he did so he faced Ferdy Wickersham, who bowed coldly.  The old gentleman stiffened, put his hand behind his back, and with uplifted head looked him full in the eyes for a second, and then turned his back on him.