“Well, I agree with you, Mr. Farrel.  You are too young and modern for such an antiquated title.  I like ‘Don Mike’ better.”

“There is no further need for that distinguishing appellation,” he reminded her, “since my father’s death.”

She looked at him for several seconds and said: 

“I’m glad to see you’ve gotten a firm grip on yourself so soon.  That will make it ever so much nicer for everybody concerned.  Mother and father are fearfully embarrassed.”

“I shall endeavor to relieve them of their embarrassment the instant I meet them.”

“Here they come now,” Kay warned, and glanced at him appealingly.

Her mother entered first, followed by the potato baron, with Parker bringing up the rear.  Mrs. Parker’s handsome face was suffused with confusion, and, from the hesitant manner in which she entered, Farrel realized she was facing an ordeal.

“Mother, this is Mr. Miguel Farrel,” Kay announced.

“You are welcome to my poor house, Mrs. Parker,” Farrel informed her, gravely, as he crossed the room and bent over her hand for a moment, releasing it to grasp the reluctant hand of her husband.  “A double welcome, sir,” he said, addressing Kay’s father, who mumbled something in reply and introduced him to the potato baron, who bowed ceremoniously.

“Won’t you please be seated?” Farrel pleaded.  He gently steered Kay’s mother to the seat on his right, and tucked her chair in under her, while Parker performed a similar service for his daughter.  With the assurance of one whose right to do was unquestioned, Farrel took his seat at the head of the table and reached for the little silver call-bell beside his plate, while Parker took an unaccustomed seat opposite the potato baron.

“Considering the distressing circumstances under which I arrived,” Farrel observed, addressing himself to Mrs. Parker, and then, with a glance, including the rest of the company, “I find myself rather happy in the possession of unexpected company.  The situation is delightfully unique—­don’t you think so, Mrs. Parker?”

“It isn’t the least bit delightful, Mr. Farrel,” the lady declared frankly and forcibly; “but it’s dear of you to be so nice about it.”

Mr. Parker’s momentary embarrassment had passed, and with the feeling that his silence was a trifle disconcerting, he rallied to meet Miguel Farrel’s attempt at gaiety.

“Well, Mr. Farrel, we find ourselves in a unique position, as you say.  Kay informs me, however, that you are conversant with the circumstances that have conspired to make us your guests.”

“Pray do not mention it.  Under the peculiar conditions existing, I quite realize that you followed the only logical and sensible course.”

Mrs. Parker heaved a small sigh of relief and gazed upon Farrel with new interest.  He returned her gaze with one faintly quizzical, whereat, emboldened, she demanded,