Spontaneous motions were never his. Trifling, unmeant words he never spoke; and to imagine him jesting was impossible. Equally impossible to imagine him affectionate, or demonstrative. The kiss he gave his fiancée was formal but significant, like the seal on a legal document. It exasperated Dorothy, who was accustomed to have her very glances sought for, her words treasured and her smiles breathlessly awaited. To have a kiss almost ignored nearly took her off her feet!
"H'm," she said; "not very lover-like, but I suppose you're embarrassed at the audience." She flashed another smile at Ernest Chapin, and then said, "Come, Mother, let's go to our rooms and——Oh, there's Leila Duane! Hello, girlie!"
Another motor came purring up, and a tall, graceful girl stepped out and joined the party on the veranda. With a calm correctness of manner, she greeted her host, Justin Arnold, and acknowledged an introduction to his secretary, Ernest Chapin. Then, turning to Mrs. Duncan and Dorothy, she chatted gayly after the manner of reunited friends.
"How heavenly to be here for a house party! But I thought we'd never get in at those forbidding-looking gates. It's like a picnic in a Bastille or something! Don't you just love it!"
"I love it with a lot of people around," returned Dorothy, "but it is Bastille-ish,—in spots. However, as it's to be my life prison, I must get used to it."
"A prison, Dorothy," said Arnold, sternly, "you look on it like that?"
"Of course I do! But you will be a gentle jailer, won't you, Justin, and let me out once in a while to play by myself?"
"By yourself!" cried Leila; "imagine Dorothy Duncan playing by herself! You mean with half a dozen of your grovelling slaves!"
"Half a dozen or one, as the case may be," and Dorothy laughed carelessly; "I'm not sure I don't prefer one to a half dozen."
Arnold looked annoyed at the conversation, but only said, lightly, "Of course you do; and as I'm the one, I'll attend to the half dozen."
"You'll have your hands full," said Leila, laughing; "are you sure, Mr. Arnold, you can keep our Dorothy in bonds? You know she is a super-flirt."
"Was, you mean," corrected Arnold, calmly; "Dorothy's flirting days are over."
Dorothy glanced at him, about to make a gay and saucy retort, but something in his face deterred her, and she contented herself with a side glance and smile at Ernest Chapin, which revealed small evidence of her subscription to Arnold's statement.
"Where is Miss Wadsworth?" she asked; "such a dear, quaint thing, Leila. You'll adore her! She's Justin's cousin, and, incidentally, his model. He's enough like her to be his own cousin! Where is she, Just?"
"She will see you at tea-time," he replied. "She begs you will excuse her until then."
Miss Duane nodded to her maid, who stood waiting, and, leading the ladies into the great hall, Arnold left them in charge of the housekeeper, who showed them to their rooms.
White Birches was one of the finest old places in America, and took its name from the trees which covered a large part of its one-hundred-acre estate.
The house, built by the grandfather of its present owner, was old-fashioned without being antique, but it lent itself readily to modern additions and improvements, and was entirely comfortable, if not strictly harmonious in design. Its original over-ornateness had been somewhat softened by time, and its heavy architecture and huge proportions gave it a dignity of its own. Justin Arnold had added many ells and wings during his occupancy, and the great spreading pile now possessed a multitude of rooms and apartments furnished in the magnificent style which had always represented the Arnold taste.
North of New York City, on Washington Heights, it was scarcely near enough to the metropolis to be called a suburb; yet, easily accessible by steam, trolley, or motor-car. White Birches was a delightful home for its occupants, and most hospitable to the stranger within its gates.
"Within its gates" is an appropriate phrase, for the only entrance to White Birches was an immense stone archway provided with heavy iron gates. The entire estate was enclosed by a high stone wall, on top of which was further protection from intruders by means of broken glass bottles embedded in cement. This somewhat foreign feature gave a picturesque effect, and the old stone wall, built nearly a century before, was partly covered with trailing vines and tangled shrubbery. But it was intact and formed an effective barrier against burglars or other marauders. The great gates were locked every night with almost as much ceremony as the lord of an ancient castle would draw his portcullis, and though this excessive precaution was rather because of tradition than fear of present danger, Justin Arnold adhered wherever possible to the customs of his ancestors.
His grandfather, perhaps because of the other manners of his times, had an almost abnormal fear of burglars. His somewhat crude burglar-alarm had been replaced in later years by Justin's father, and this in turn by Justin himself, so that at present White Birches was fitted out with the most elaborate and efficacious burglar-alarm that had yet been invented. Every door and window, every cellar bulkhead and every opening of any sort, was protected by the tentacles of this far-reaching contrivance. The upper half of every window was further protected by a heavy wire screen or grating, which permitted the upper sash to be raised or lowered for ventilation without setting off the alarm.
But when the alarm was set on, and this Justin Arnold attended to himself every night, no external door or window, with the exception noted, could be opened without the alarm being sounded all through the house, in the stables and the garage, where several men-servants slept, and in the gatekeeper's lodge. The great iron gates were also connected with the alarm, and although the precaution seemed out of all proportion to the possible danger, it was a tradition in the house of Arnold, and was scrupulously observed.
Also there was a night watchman, who must needs punch his time-clocks at various stations in the grounds every half-hour.
There were telegraph and telephone wires, all laid in underground conduits, to prevent their being cut, and these gave quick communication to the police or the fire department in case of need. But though all this sounds complicated and ponderous, yet so complete and perfectly adjusted was the alarm, that the master of the house could turn it on in a moment just before retiring at night, and the butler could turn it off in the morning, and thus it troubled nobody.
White Birches could scarcely be called a cheerful place, for the grounds were densely wooded, the gardens broken up by ravines and rocky gorges, and the tangle of undergrowth in many parts so thick and dark that the whole effect was lacking in sunlight and cheer. But Dorothy Duncan had firmly made up her mind that when she was mistress there, as she would be soon, there would be a general clearing out on many of the acres. In determining this, she reckoned without her host and future husband; but Dorothy's was a sanguine nature, and she fully expected to wind Justin Arnold around her dainty little finger—although as yet the winding had made no progress.
As the guests followed Mrs. Garson, the housekeeper, upstairs, Dorothy paused and detained Arnold a moment.
"It's lovely of you," she said, smiling and dimpling at him, "to make this party for me. And I'm so glad I'm here first. I like to be first part of a party."
"You're the party of the first part," said Arnold, smiling at his own rather heavy attempt at wit.
"Oh, don't say that! It sounds so legal."
"Well, you don't want it to be illegal, do you?"
"Heavens, Justin! I didn't know you could even pronounce the word illegal! You are the
