“Then what do you expect to do?”

“Well, Betty has a rich aunt in a lunatic asylum.  And then I’m making money, you know—­and the old boy will have to relent in the end.  And we’re having a very good time in the meanwhile, you know.”

“You can’t be very much in love,” said Montague—­to which his brother replied cheerfully that they were as much in love as they felt like being.

This was on the train Monday morning.  Oliver observed that his brother relapsed into a brown study, and remarked, “I suppose you’re going back now to bury yourself in your books.  You’ve got to give me one evening this week for a dinner that’s important.”

“Where’s that?” asked the other.

“Oh, it’s a long story,” said Oliver.  “I’ll explain it to you some time.  But first we must have an understanding about next week, also—­I suppose you’ve not overlooked the fact that it’s Christmas week.  And you won’t be permitted to do any work then.”

“But that’s impossible!” exclaimed the other.

“Nothing else is possible,” said Oliver, firmly.  “I’ve made an engagement for you with the Eldridge Devons up the Hudson—­”

“For the whole week?”

“The whole week.  And it’ll be the most important thing you’ve done.  Mrs. Winnie’s going to take us all in her car, and you will make no end of indispensable acquaintances.”

“Oliver, I don’t see how in the world I can do it!” the other protested in dismay, and went on for several minutes arguing and explaining what he had to do.  But Oliver contented himself with the assurance that where there’s a will, there’s a way.  One could not refuse an invitation to spend Christmas with the Eldridge Devons!

And sure enough, there was a way.  Mr. Hasbrook had mentioned to him that he had had considerable work done upon the case, and would have the papers sent round.  And when Montague reached his office that morning, he found them there.  There was a package of several thousand pages; and upon examining them, he found to his utter consternation that they contained a complete bill of complaint, with all the necessary references and citations, and a preliminary draught of a brief—­in short, a complete and thoroughgoing preparation of his case.  There could not have been less than ten or fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of work in the papers; and Montague sat quite aghast, turning over the neatly typewritten sheets.  He could indeed afford to attend Christmas house parties, if all his clients were to treat him like this!

He felt a little piqued about it—­for he had noted some of these points for himself, and felt a little proud about them.  Apparently he was to be nothing but a figure-head in the case!  And he turned to the phone and called up Mr. Hasbrook, and asked him what he expected him to do with these papers.  There was the whole case here; and was he simply to take them as they stood?

No one could have replied more considerately than did Mr. Hasbrook.  The papers were for Montague’s benefit—­he would do exactly as he pleased with them.  He might use them as they stood, or reject them altogether, or make them the basis for his own work—­anything that appealed to his judgment would be satisfactory.  And so Montague turned about and wrote an acceptance to the formal invitation which had come from the Eldridge Devons.