"We finished sooner than I expected," Mr. Wayland answered, "so I drove Willis to his hotel and waited for him to dress. I was afraid he might disappoint us if I let him out of my sight. I couldn't allow that—not to-night of all nights, eh?" The magnate laughed knowingly at Marsh.
"I have never yet disappointed Miss Wayland, and I never shall," the new-comer replied, eying the girl in such a way that Boyd felt a sudden desire to choke him until his smooth, expressionless face matched the color of his evening coat. "I can imagine your daughter's feminine guests staying away, Mr. Wayland, but her masculine friends, never!"
"What rot!" thought Emerson.
"Well, I couldn't take any chances to-night," the father reasserted, "for this is a celebration. I will tell Hawkins to open a bottle of that Private Cuvee, '86."
"What machinations have you precious conspirators been at now?" queried
Mildred.
"My dear, I have effected a wonderful deal to-day," said her father. "With the help of Mr. Marsh, I closed the last details of a consolidation which has occupied me for many months."
"Another trust, I suppose."
"Certain people might call it that," chuckled the old man. "Willis was the inspiring genius, and did most of the work; the credit is his."
"Not at all! Not at all!" disclaimed the modest Marsh. "I was but a child in your father's hands, Miss Wayland. He has given me a liberal education in finance."
"It was a beautiful affair, eh?" questioned the magnate.