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"He came off the boat with an Aberdeenshire terrier under one arm and a book under the other"

which he captured an inspector from three irate old gentlemen by a slight gesture. Remembering our own experiences with these same customs officials, we were simply overcome by the respectful alacrity shown by this one under Angus's direction. Lingering in the background, we watched him tip the panting stewards and swiftly dispose of one piece of baggage after another; there were fifteen of them all told. William stuck at the little chap's elbow and dodged clumsily out of his way, and I could tell by the expression of his face that William was cursing heavily. Finally he threw up his hands and came over to join us, and I heard him say to his wife, "I'm glad to report that the young prime minister has some civilized clothes in his kit."

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Kelly was, the louder William would laugh. William positively enjoyed the ugly temper of the man, and ridiculed us. You see, William detests the traffic regulations, and he demands that his chauffeur defy them. A traffic officer's uplifted hand meant nothing to Kelly, and from his driver's seat he would "sass" the biggest mounted policeman that ever headed a parade. William called him "beautifully blind" to speedsigns, and had grown very much attached to him, never omitting an opportunity to encourage his disrespect for law and good manners.

But here was our hulking, irascible Kelly eating out of Angus's hand. It was too humiliating. I could see that William Ferguson was enraged. And Angus was asking Kelly, sternly:

"You 're not a Sinn Feiner, are you, Kelly?"

"Not I, sir!" said Kelly, amazed. "My home was Ballyclare, sir. Sure, I'm a Carsonite."

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It was the only part of his uniform they could save for me. You see, the pater had led his men over the top, and when the Hun drove them back, the pater hung on the wire between the lines all day and was shot to shreds. Colonel Grahame fetched his body in for burial when it grew dark enough, and sent this sporran to mother."

Naturally, I could have bitten my tongue off. tongue off. I walked down the pier mentally kicking myself. We proceeded through the gates in dead sillence, but when Angus saw the new car, he brightened up at once.

"Well, now," he exclaimed, "this is rather swish!"

"'Swish'!" Betty fell upon the word. "Whaddeyuh mean, 'swish"?" Bob glowered.

"Now I've done it!" said Angus. "Mother told me to be careful about that word. It's very inelegant, as mother says. What I mean is, I'm most awfully glad you have a car like that, because that's what we have at home in Edinburgh. May n't I drive, Cousin William?"

"You don't know the traffic regulations, old son," said William, meaning, I suppose, that he would n't know enough to break all of them as Kelly always did. "Wait until we get out into the country," he added. William was rather subdued since the sporran incident. He sat beside Kelly, and the rest of us were piled into the rear, Angus still clinging to his little Aberdeenshire terrier and his book.

"What's the name of your dog?" Mrs. Ferguson asked timidly.

"His name is Joshua," said Angus, and held him out to Martha, whose hesitating reception allowed Betty to seize the terrier. Joshua's tail had been wagging steadily ever since they came down the gang-plank; now his whole body wagged while Bob and Betty bent their heads over him.

"Why on earth did you call him Joshua?" I asked as we sped up lower Broadway.

Angus withdrew his wondering eyes from the skyscrapers.

"I don't know," he said, and grinned. "I dare say you'll think it silly of me, but I'm certain that if Joshua had

been a dog instead of a man, he would have looked like-Joshua. Don't you see a resemblance?"

Kelly doubled up over his wheel, and William unbent enought to smile sheepishly. I felt like a fool, and I knew I had been "had," as Angus would have said. His mother was right; there was mischief in him. He looked at me with a half-apologetic grin.

"I'm just rotting you. I hope you don't mind," he said. "You see, when Joshua was a little pup he was a frightful coward. Mother was terribly worried about us both. Dad had just been killed in the Somme show, and I had had pneumonia and could n't seem to buck up after it. When I kept on having chills and fever, mother gave me the pup, and told us we'd have to set each other an example. He was such a coward and I was so ratty, don't you see? Mother said I had the MacLeod name to grow up to, and I must give the pup a name that would make him ambitious. Poor little Josh has had a task to grow up to deserve the name of a great warrior."

At Twenty-third Street Kelly shot past an outraged traffic-policeman and scudded ahead of the mid-afternoon jam of vehicles up Fifth Avenue.

The very

devil seemed to possess Kelly. Martha Ferguson and I sat on the edge of the seat holding our breath all the way up to Fifty-ninth Street, while we had one hairbreadth escape after another from collisions and arrests. William may find that sort of thing "relaxing" after a hard day in his office, and "exhilarating at the beginning of one, but it exhausted us.

At Fifty-ninth Street the inevitable happened. Kelly ignored the stop signal, and the huge officer in charge of traffic stepped squarely into our path. We screamed, and clutched Betty, who sat between us. Kelly nearly threw us all out of the car by the violence with which he put on the brakes.

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"I say," said Angus, "what wonderful big chaps these bobbies are!" . "What in h- is the matter with you!" shouted the officer, coming around to Kelly. "Is it blind you are, `r crazy?"

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yourself, making me slide the wheel on a thousand dollar's worth of tires!" Kelly replied, equally angry.

"I'll give you a black eye and a summons, both with the same lick, if you talk back to me," the officer threatened furiously.

"Is it so?" said Kelly, rising up in his seat. "You strike me, and I 'll find you after hours and open your fat skull long enough to let some sense in."

"You're pinched," said the officer, decisively.

"One moment, please," said Angus, laying a restraining hand upon Kelly's shoulder. "I don't think you two fellows could hurt one another." He smiled at them.

"What is it?" they inquired together. "Do you box, old chaps?" asked.

"What do you say?"


They looked at each other and then at Angus.

"Sure I do," said the officer.

"If you mean me," said Kelly, "I do indeed."

"Cousin William," said Angus, "may I arrange a bout?"


"Go to it, kid," said William. "Give me your card," said Angus, and William hastily fished a card from his wallet. "Now, then," Angus continued, holding out the card to the perspiring officer, come out the first bank holiday to Mr. Ferguson's country place at that address, and we 'll stage a bout between you. How would ten rounds do? That is, if you 're not afraid of each other?"

"Give me your address, Captain," said William Ferguson, pencil in hand, "and remember there's a five hundreddollar purse for the winner, and two hundred dollars for the loser."

"I promised my old woman— -" the officer began, scratching his head in a doubtful way.

"Fetch her along," said Angus. "Fetch your family and friends and have a fine day with us in the country."

"Thank you, sir, I'll think it over. There's an ordinance against prizefighting."

"We'll stop another time and ask you again," said Angus.

"All right, sir. As for you," he added


"Come out the first bank holiday to Mr. Ferguson's country place. . and we 'll stage a bout between you'

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"We 're in the country now," said Kelly, with a wave at the gorgeous autumnal foliage all about us. 'Do you want the young gentleman to take the wheel?"

"Come on, diplomat, let's see how you can drive," said William. He got out and came around to take Angus's place, while Angus scrambled over behind the wheel, and peered down at the confusion of gages and things on the dash-board. Our car had a wonderful collection of dash-board fixtures. Angus was fingering these things and mumbling something to Kelly.

"I never touched it, sir," said Kelly. 'ting" us. "I don't know what it 's for."

Angus went on fingering these things and mumbling, and Kelly repeated after a moment: "I swear to you, sir, on my bended knee, I never used it. There's a terrible lot about this car that I don't understand at all."

"Let me explain it to you," said Angus, and got out, followed by our former "expert." "Just open the hood, will you?" Angus went on. William got out, too, and Angus, noticing him, turned to us all.

"I say," he said, "please don't think me a meddlesome blighter for messing with your motor." Then to Kelly he added, "And please don't think I'm swanking or trying to make a bally ass of you."

somebody something in that utterly unobjectionable manner of his. He taught Kelly to repair the car. He taught the gardener how to make his own compost for the rose-bushes. He taught Bob to box, and, what was harder, he explained to Bob why it was necessary to keep one's temper while boxing. He discovered Betty's penchant for queer language, and taught her Britishisms and certain Gaelic expressions that sounded for all the world like swearing. Those two children would giggle over them, and Angus would explain elaborately, with a twinkle that showed he was "rot

'Certainly not, sir," said Kelly. "'Swanking,'" Betty repeated quickly-"does that mean 'showing-off"?" Angus nodded.

"You see, I spent a month in the factory," he apologized, "getting the hang of our car. Mother said it would be educational. I don't know about that, but it was jolly good fun.


By the way, I might mention that Angus drove quite as well as William Ferguson himself, and I have always thought my brother was the finest driver in the world. What is more, Angus taught my reckless nephew Bob to drive beautifully. Angus cared no more for driving than William did. He said he was lazy about it, and that you could n't enjoy the view and the bright colors in the woods. But he was n't lazy about teaching other people.

That child was forever teaching

He actually had the temerity to teach William Ferguson golf, our own William, who has been a champion golfer for years. It was bad for William's temper until he discovered how good it was for his game, and thereafter he simply monopolized his Scotch "pedagogue."

After a week in the best of our New Rochelle schools, Angus informed us that he was "fed up with that case of mummies." The people in charge were "simply childish. The poor dears did n't even speak grammatically. So William took him downtown every morning for a couple of weeks, and let him explore the intricacies of the stockbroker's business. That was new to him, and he picked up a wonderful lot of Wall Street jargon. William could have made a broker of him, he declared, but the boy decided he ought to broaden his field, and William finally entered him for a lot of lecture courses at Columbia University. He and William motored to town every morning. Angus dropped off at 116th Street, and William returned at three o'clock to pick him up for the regular afternoon golf.

One evening Angus came down from his room brandishing a book in one hand and shouting that at last Professor Somebody had told the truth. We were all in the library, and he took the center of the fireplace to address us.

"Here's an American scholar," he declared with enthusiasm, patting the little book, "who has examined all the books on history that are used in your schools, and who proves that all of them deliberately lie about England, espe

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