really do credit to the family. Oh!" She checked herself. "You havent' met my nephew! Jim?" Miss Laughton turned to a young man whom Stephen now saw for the first time. "Jim, this is your cousin, Stephen Reynolds. Stephen, this is Jim Laughton, Bob's son. He's staying with me for a while."

The young man gave a slight bow, and he and Stephen shook hands. "How do you do, sir?" he said.

Stephen gulped mentally. Jim was good looking. Quite good looking! Taller than his aunt and not so tall as Stephen, he had the slim, welldeveloped figure that Stephen found so attractive. He was wearing a charcoal flannel suit, a white shirt, and a dark tie that was evidently the badge of some school. His smooth dark hair had only a slight wave, his skin had the beautiful transparency sometimes seen in late adolescence, and his brown eyes smiled into Stephen's gray ones. How old was he? Twenty? Eighteen? Stephen sought wildly in his conversational armory for something to say.

"You've grown a lot in ten years," he remarked, rather inanely.

Jim smiled but said nothing. What could he say? Fortunately his aunt intervened.

"Of course! You saw Jim on your visit here in 1955! Well, yes, he has grown. Children usually do, you know."

Stephen again ransacked his brain for chit-chat. "You're at the Britton School, aren't you? What are you now, a senior?"

The boy began to redden although he continued to smile, and Miss Laughton said quickly, "Jim isn't in school just now. He's going to join his parents in June and finish his schooling in Switzerland. Won't that be wonderful? I understand that there are some excellent schools around Lau-

14

sanne.'

She rattled on. "Jim, dear, take Cousin Stephen's suitcase. If we can miss the five o'clock rush traffic, we'll have time for a couple of comfortable drinks before dinner.

Stephen and Miss Laughton, preceded by the suitcase-bearing Jim, walked through the terminal to the parking area. As they walked, Miss Lawton said very quietly, "Stephen, don't say anything about the school. Bob felt it was better to take him out-I don't know why. He wouldn't discuss it, and he made me promise not to mention it to Jim. I do know," she added, "that Bob was very upset."

"Oh, certainly," agreed Stephen, wondering what on earth was behind it. He remembered Bob Laughton with disagreeable accuracy as a self-righteous, tyrannical boor. Jim seemed to be such a gentlemanly kid, he thought. Probably got it all from his lovely, brow-beaten mother. Poor Cousin

Edith!

On reaching the car Miss Laughton said, "Stephen, you sit up front with Jim. I like the back seat better when I'm not driving."

Meekly Stephen got in.

"Do you like to fly, sir?" asked Jim, turning smoothly into the stream of the main highway.

This subject seemed harmless enough. "Yes, Jim, but I'd rather fly less frequently and make longer flights. These puddle-jumping business trips can be very tiring."

"You're in photography, aren't you, sir?"

"No. It's really PR work. I round up models and settings to display the fabrics my firm makes."

"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Laughton, "I haven't thanked you for that charming photograph of yourself that you sent me last month! You'll see it in a place of honor on the coffee table -in a silver frame, no less!"

"Models and settings?" queried Jim.