“But enough of this.  I daresay he is in no real danger after all.  Nevertheless, I shall induce him to pack to-morrow, and we will make for London together, so my next letter will bear a British stamp, and I assure you the air of England will taste good to one benighted Britisher whose name is Alan Drummond.”

CHAPTER X

 Calamity unseen

The habit of industry practised from childhood to maturity is not obliterated by an unexpected shower of gold.  Dorothy was an early riser, and one morning, entering the parlor from her room she saw, lying upon the table, a letter with a Russian stamp, but addressed in an unknown hand to her friend Katherine Kempt.  She surmised that here was the first communication from the Prince, and expected to learn all about it during the luncheon hour at the latest.  But the morning and afternoon passed, and Katherine made no sign, which Dorothy thought was most unusual.  All that day and the next Katherine went about silent, sedate and serious, never once quoting the humorous Mr. Gilbert.  On the third morning Dorothy was surprised, emerging from her room, to see Katherine standing by the table, a black book in her hand.  On the table lay a large package from New York, recently opened, displaying a number of volumes in what might be termed serious binding, leather or cloth, but none showing that high coloring which distinguishes the output of American fiction.

“Good-morning, Dorothy.  The early bird is after the worm of science.”  She held forth the volume in her hand.  “Steele’s ‘Fourteen-Weeks’ Course in Chemistry,’ an old book, but fascinatingly written.  Dorothy,” she continued with a sigh, “I want to talk seriously with you.”

“About chemistry?” asked Dorothy.

“About men,” said Katherine firmly, “and, incidentally, about women.”

“An interesting subject, Kate, but you’ve got the wrong text-books.  You should have had a parcel of novels instead.”

Dorothy seated herself, and Katherine followed her example, Steele’s “Fourteen-Weeks’ Course” resting in her lap.

“Every man,” began Katherine, “should have a guardian to protect him.”

“From women?”

“From all things that are deceptive, and not what they seem.”

“That sounds very sententious, Kate.  What does it mean?”

“It means that man is a simpleton, easily taken in.  He is too honest for crafty women, who delude him shamelessly.”

“Whom have you been deluding, Kate?”

“Dorothy, I am a sneak.”

Dorothy laughed.

“Indeed, Katherine, you are anything but that.  You couldn’t do a mean or ungenerous action if you tried your best.”

“You think, Dorothy, I could reform?” she asked, breathlessly, leaning forward.

“Reform?  You don’t need to reform.  You are perfectly delightful as you are, and I know no man who is worthy of you.  That’s a woman’s opinion; one who knows you well, and there is nothing dishonest about the opinion, either, in spite of your tirade against our sex.”