Kindred of the Dust

  XXXIV

  Mr. Daney worked through a stack of mail with his stenographer,dismissed her, and, in the privacy of his sanctum, lighted his pipeand proceeded to mend his fences. In the discretion of the chiefoperator at the telephone exchange, he had great confidence; in thatof Mrs. McKaye, none at all. He believed that the risk of having thesecret leak out through Nan herself was a negligible one, and, ofcourse (provided he did not talk in his sleep) the reason for Nan'sreturn was absolutely safe with him. Indeed, the very fact that TheLaird had demanded and received an explanation from the girl wouldindicate to Nan that Mrs. McKaye had acted on her own initiative;hence, Nan would, in all probability, refrain from disclosing thisfact to The Laird in any future conversations.

  Reasoning further, Daney concluded there would be no futureconversations. The Laird, following his usual custom of refrainingfrom discussing a subject already settled to his satisfaction, couldbe depended upon to avoid a discussion of any kind with Nan Brent infuture, for such discussions would not be to his interest, and he wassingularly adept in guarding that interest.

  His cogitations were interrupted by a telephone-call from Mrs. McKaye.The good soul's first gust of resentment having passed, she desired tothank him for his timely warning and to assure him that, on thesubject of that transcontinental telephone-conversation she and herdaughters could be depended upon to remain as silent as the Sphinx.

  This information relieved Mr. Daney greatly. "After all," he confidedto the cuspidor, "it is up to the girl whether we fish or cut bait.But then, what man in his senses can trust a woman to stay put.Females are always making high dives into shoal water, and thosetactless McKaye women are going to smear everything up yet. You waitand see."

  The longer Mr. Daney considered this situation, the more convinced didhe become that mischief was brewing. Did not periods of seraphic calmalways precede a tornado? In the impending social explosion, a fewhard missiles would most certainly come his way, and in a sudden agonyof apprehension and shame because he had told The Laird a half-truth,he sprang to his feet, resolved to seek old Hector, inform him thatMrs. McKaye had compromised the family, and thus enable him to meetthe issue like a gentleman. But this decision was succeeded by thereflection that perhaps this action would merely serve to precipitatea situation that might not be evolved in the ordinary course ofaffairs. Furthermore, he could not afford to betray Mrs. McKaye on themere suspicion that, sooner or later, she would betray herself, forthis would savor of too much anxiety to save his own skin at herexpense. "I'm a singularly unhappy old duffer," he groaned and kickedhis inoffending waste-basket across the office. "The females! Themischief-making, bungling, thoughtless, crazy females! There aremillions of wonderful, angelic women in this terrible world, but whatI want to know is: Where the Sam Hill do they hide themselves?"