"May I ask when the wedding takes place?" inquired the host after a pause.

Withdrawing the perfecto from his lips. Jimmie threw back his head and blew a ring of smoke up to the ceiling.

"That depends," he replied carelessly, "on how--a--a--business venture of mine turns out."

Now at close range, Stafford scrutinized his guest more narrowly.

Quickly he took note of his ill-fitting clothes, cheap tie, frayed linen and shabby shoes. He hardly looked the kind of man likely to be burdened with heavy business responsibilities. Nodding sympathetically, so as to encourage confidence, he said:

"I see. What business are you in, Mr. Gillie?"

"I'm a shipping clerk."

"Then you are not in business for yourself?"

"No--that is, not now--though I hope to be some day. You see, I have ambitions."

The millionaire nodded approvingly.

"That's right. Every young man should be ambitious."

"I want to do something big," went on his _vis-a-vis_ confidently. "I have the ability. All I need is the chance to prove it."

"H'm," said Stafford, with a slight tinge of scepticism in his voice.

"In what direction do you think your talents lie, Mr. Gillie?"

"Finance! Organization!" exclaimed the clerk enthusiastically. "I've got ideas, too! For instance, Mr. Stafford, did you ever stop to think of the money there would be in a Chewing Gum Trust?"

"No, I must confess I never did," laughed his host.

"Well--there's big money in it," said Jimmie confidently. "I've figured it all out. I'd like to tell you about another scheme of mine, which is going to revolutionize railroading in this country--cut down train time one-half. I told the girls about it; they think it's great!"

Stafford nodded.

"Yes--Miss Virginia mentioned it to me. You must tell me what it is some day."

Inflating his chest, Jimmie sat back in his chair and puffed more vigorously at his cigar. Decidedly he was getting on. Here he was discussing business opportunities with one of the biggest men in New York. Carelessly he added: "I've got lots of other good ideas, too, but I suppose I'll never be able to work 'em out. What chance has a shipping clerk got?"

Stafford looked at his interlocutor for a moment without speaking.

Then suddenly and emphatically, he said:

"Mr. Gillie, the business world is actually hunting to-day for men big enough to hold big positions. I don't mean mere fifty-thousand-dollar men. I mean hundred-thousand-dollar men. There is a better chance now for the really big man than there ever was."

"But how is a fellow going to prove he is a big man?" inquired the clerk, removing the cigar from his mouth.

"By doing whatever work in which he is engaged in a big way. The man who says to himself 'I'm too good for this job,' but only says it, will probably have it for the rest of his life. But the man who says 'I'll show my boss that I'm too good for it,' and does his work in a way that proves it--the feet of such a man are on the road that leads to the City of Big Things!"

Virginia, who had come near enough to overhear the last few words, stood listening, fascinated.

"The City of Big Things!" she echoed.

Stafford laughed. Rising and turning to Virginia, He said courteously:

"But we didn't come here to talk business and such subjects as that."

Changing the topic, he asked: "Have you read any of the new books, Miss Blaine?"

"I'm afraid not," she smiled.

"Virgie hasn't had much time to read lately," interrupted f.a.n.n.y.

"Busy?" demanded their host.

"Well, it's this way," explained the elder sister, "we've had a lot of sewing to do, and three times in the last two weeks she's taken me to the art galleries to look at the pictures."

"Really!" exclaimed Stafford.

"Yes," broke in Jimmie, with a grin, "one time they took me. Some of the pictures were great, but I couldn't stand for those milk chocolate Dutch women with the Mellen's Food babies. I like pictures with something doing in them for mine--such as battles and sea pictures."

The millionaire pointed towards the room beyond the salon. He said:

"If you are fond of paintings of battle scenes, I have two Meissoniers, which I think rather good. They are in the library there--"

"Can I see them?" demanded the clerk, anxious to pa.s.s for a connoisseur.

"Certainly," replied his host. Turning to f.a.n.n.y, he added: "There's also a collection of fans. I think it would interest you, too."

"I am sure they will," she smiled. "Will you excuse us?"

"Certainly--"

She went towards the library and at the threshold turned and called to her fiance, who was lingering behind.

"Coming, Jimmie?"

"Surest thing you know," he grinned, rising to go and join her.

Stafford accompanied them as far as the library door. Pointing all around, he said:

"The books and the engravings will interest you. You needn't hurry.

Oku will let you know when dinner is served."

"Very well," smiled f.a.n.n.y. "You and Virginia please excuse us. Jimmie and I will just browse in here for a while."

CHAPTER IX

Glad of the opportunity which allowed him a few minutes alone with the girl whose personality had taken so strong a hold upon him, Stafford gently closed the door, and, returning quickly, took a seat near Virginia.