harvesting. "I am Philip Bolling, the son of Rolfe Bolling—"
"The devil you are!"
"I met this young lady on the train and since she was traveling alone and nobody met her at the Court House I have given myself the pleasure of bringing her safely to her destination. We came over from the Court House on the shuttle engine to the hub factory and walked from the mill. The rest of your granddaughter's baggage is at the mill, left in care of Silas Johnson."
"Whose granddaughter? What granddaughter? How am I to know this is my granddaughter? How am I to know you are the son of Rolfe Bolling?"
"That's as you choose, sir," answered Philip, respectfully, but with an indifference that made the old man open his eyes.
"And I choose to ask you what business you have bringing to my house a young person who claims to be my granddaughter when I know nothing about her and—"
"Exactly!" put in the Misses Taylor, glad of the cue from their father.
Spottswood merely gave a noncommittal "Humph!"
"Excuse me, sir, but you are mistaken in
