after she had been called to her mother's room
for a small family reunion and had come back
to Betty a thoroughly happy girl again, she ran
to meet her uncle, who came in just then. “Oh
Uncle!” she cried, “my father, the Count Coletti,
is here!” How proudly Lucia spoke, and there
was a little of question in her voice.

“Thank heaven!” replied her uncle, of whose
reception of her father she had been so doubtful.
“It is high time! I hope he can manage her.
It's beyond me.” But Betty knew that Mr.
Murchison was laughing as he spoke. “Tell him
that we'll kill the fatted calf. Have you told
the housekeeper?”

“I never thought of it, but the butler knows
and he does everything or sees to it, you know.”

And at dinner, when Betty had met the count
and he had told her that he already knew her
as his daughter's best friend, one little speech
of the countess amused her very much.

“Think, Buddy,” she said using the old term
of her childhood for her brother, “think, Buddy,
what a social asset he'll be while we stay!” And
with perfect understanding now, Count Coletti
looked at his wife and smiled with the rest.

In the course of the conversation, which con-
sisted chiefly in drawing out details of Count
Coletti's African experiences, it was hinted that

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