perfectly good country rock.  They confessed to each other, with admirable conservatism, that the proposition looked very promising, very promising indeed, and they listened with appreciation to Gordon’s glowing accounts of his railroad enterprise, the physical evidence of which consisted of a mile or two of track which shrank along the steep shore-front and disappeared into a gulch as if ashamed of itself.  He had a wonderful plan to consolidate the mining and railroad companies and talked of a giant holding corporation which would share in the profits of each.  The details were intricate, but he seemed to see them all with perfect clearness, and his victims agreed.

He entertained them on a scale that was almost embarrassing, and when they returned to their homes they outdid one another in their praise of the financial genius who was leading them to the promised land of profits and preferred stock.  As a matter of course they one and all advised their friends to buy, vouching for the fabulous richness of Hope Consolidated, and since their statements were backed by a personal examination of the property, subscriptions came pouring in.

All in all, the excursion had proven so profitable that Gordon had arranged for another, designed to accommodate new investors and promising “prospects.”  Preparations for their welcome were under way when Natalie arrived.

The girl and her mother talked late that evening, and Gordon saw on the following morning that Gloria, at least, had passed a trying night; but he gave himself no uneasiness.  Emotional storms were not unusual; he always disregarded them as far as possible, and usually they passed off quietly.  During breakfast he informed them: 

“I received a letter from Miss Golden in yesterday’s mail.  She is to be one of the new party.”

“Did you invite her to return this summer?” Mrs. Gerard inquired.

“Yes!”

“I remember her well,” said Natalie—­“too well, in fact.  I thought her very bold.”

“She is one of our largest investors, and she writes she would enjoy spending a fortnight here after the others go back.”

“Will you allow it?”

“Allow it!  My dear Gloria, I can’t possibly refuse.  In fact it would be the height of inhospitality not to urge her to do so.  She is welcome to stay as long as she chooses, for these quarters are as much hers as ours.  I hope you will be nice to her.”

Mrs. Gerard made no answer, but later in the morning sought Gordon in his private office.

“I preferred not to discuss the Golden woman before Natalie,” she explained, coldly, “but—­you don’t really intend to have her here, do you?”

“Most assuredly!”

“Then I shall have to tell her she is not welcome.”

“You will do nothing of the sort, my dear:  you will assume the duties of hostess, for which no one is more charmingly qualified.”

Mrs. Gerard’s lips were white with anger as she retorted: