granddaughter of Lucas Cullen; the eagerness of many people to speak to them and to advertise acquaintance with the family; such a trifle, indeed, as Bennet's careless assurance that they might go without tickets to the opera and, finding the family box occupied, might drop in upon "somebody's" box; all this showed the family of Lucas Cullen too surely established in the fabric of society and too powerful to be imagined as likely to be endangered, or even seriously disturbed, by any such event as the arrival of an unknown young man at a rock in Lake Huron.
The circumstances connected with Barney's appearance also lost credence here,—those strange letters from London which foretold so truly Bagley's and Ethel's presence at Resurrection Rock. In the north, people were ready to hear anything strange about the Rock; but here,—Ethel looked out at the motor cars passing on Michigan Avenue, at the long lines of the boulevard lights, at the many, matter-of-fact, self-absorbed people about; and she remained silent. The letter which had been awaiting her on Scott Street was as strange as the rest; but she decided to start with that.
"Do you know any one named Quinlan?" she asked.
"Old Jim Quinlan? Surely."
"James was the name," Ethel said, trying not to betray a start. "Who is he?"
"Funny old codger," Bennet informed. "Father used to have him about the south side yards."
"You employed him?"
"When he condescended to work, we did. Father told our foreman to take him on for old time's sake."
"Why?"
"He was with grandfather years ago."
