of the old office, 'French Pembroke, Attorney at Law.' It has been a good many years since that sign was first put up. Egad, your father and I have had some good times in that office, in the old, old days. He always kept a first-class brand of liquors. His style of serving it wasn't very imposing, but it didn't hurt the liquor. I've drank cognac fit for a king in that office, and drank it out of a shaving mug borrowed from the barber next door—ha! ha!"
A change like magic swept over Olivia's face. It indicated great relief that Pembroke was not an idle scamp after all. She tried to look sternly and reproachfully at him, but a smile lurked in her eyes.
"You are not as lazy as I thought you, but twice as deceitful," she said.
Pembroke was amused at the extreme suavity of the two ladies toward each other, knowing that at heart it masked an armed neutrality. Particularly did he notice it after dinner, when they returned to the drawing-room and the piano was opened. Madame Koller was asked to sing, but first begged that Miss Berkeley should play. Olivia, without protesting, went to the piano. Her playing was finished and artistic, and full of the delicate repose of a true musician. When she rose Madame Koller overflowed with compliments. "And now, madam," said the Colonel, rising and offering his hand with a splendid and graceful flourish, "will you not let us hear that voice that charmed us when you were little Eliza Peyton."
Madame Koller did not like to be called Eliza
