"Yes. Sartin. That's right. But I didn't know but p'raps some of your friends might have helped along. This Mrs. Dunn now, she kind of hinted to me that she'd--well, done what she could to make you comf'table."

"She has," avowed Caroline, warmly. "Mrs. Dunn and Malcolm have proved their friendship in a thousand ways. We never can repay them, Stephen and I, never!"

"No. There's some things you can't ever pay, I know that. Mrs. Dunn found this nice place for you, did she?"

"Why, yes. She and I found it together."

"So? That was lucky, wa'n't it? Advertised in the newspaper, was it; or was there a 'To Let' placard up in the window?"

"No, certainly not. Mrs. Dunn knew that we had decided to move, and she has a cousin who is interested in New York property. She asked him, and he mentioned this apartment."

"One of his own, was it?"

"I believe so. Why are you so particular? Don't you like it?"

Her tone was sharp. Stephen, who resented his uncle's questions as impertinent intrusions upon the family affairs, added one of his own.

"Isn't it as good as those in--what do you call it--South Denboro?" he asked, maliciously.

Captain Elisha laughed heartily.

"Pretty nigh as good," he said. "I didn't notice any better on the way to the depot as I drove up. And I doubt if there's many new ones built since I left. It's a mighty fine lot of rooms, I think. What's the rent?

You'll excuse my askin', things bein' as they are."

"Twenty-two hundred a year," answered his niece, coldly.

The captain looked at her, whistled, broke off the whistle in the middle, and did a little mental arithmetic.

"Twenty-two hundred a year!" he repeated. "That's one hundred and eighty odd a month. Say, that cousin of Mrs. Dunn's must want to get his investment back. You mean for just these ten rooms?"

Stephen laughed scornfully.

"Our guardian has been counting, Caro," he remarked.

"Yes. Yes, I counted this mornin' when I got up. I was interested, naturally."

"Sure! Naturally, of course," sneered the boy. "Did you think the twenty-two hundred was the rent of the entire building?"

"Well, I didn't know. I--"

"The rent," interrupted Caroline, with dignity, "was twenty-four hundred, but, thanks to Mrs. Dunn, who explained to her cousin that we were friends of hers, it was reduced."

"We being in reduced circ.u.mstances," observed her brother in supreme disgust. "Pity the poor orphans! By gad!"

"That was real nice of Mrs. Dunn," declared Captain Elisha, heartily.

"She's pretty well-off herself, I s'pose--hey, Caroline?"

"I presume so."

"Yes, yes. About how much is she wuth, think?"

"I don't know. I never inquired."

"No. Well, down our way," with a chuckle, "we don't have to inquire. Ask anybody you meet what his next door neighbor's wuth, and he'll tell you within a hundred, and how he got it, and how much he owes, and how he gets along with his wife. Ho! ho! Speakin' of wives, is this Mr. Dunn married?"

He looked at his niece as he asked the question. There was no reason why Caroline should blush; she knew it, and hated herself for doing it.

"No," she answered, resentfully, "he is not."

"Um-hm. What's his business?"

"He is connected with a produce exchange house, I believe."

"One of the firm?"

"I don't know. In New York we are not as well posted, or as curious, concerning our friends' private affairs as your townspeople seem to be."

"I guess that's so. I imagine New Yorkers are too busy gettin' it themselves to bother whether their neighbors have got it or not. Well,"

he went on, rising, "I guess I've kept you young folks from your work or--or play, or whatever you was going to do, long enough for this once.

I think I'll go out for a spell. I've got an errand or two I want to do.

What time do you have dinner?"

"We lunch at half past one," answered Caroline.

"We dine at seven."

"Oh, yes, yes! I keep forgettin' that supper's dinner. Well, I presume likely I'll be back for luncheon. If I ain't, don't wait for me. I'll be home afore supper--there I go again!--afore dinner, anyhow. Good-by."

Five minutes later he was at the street corner, inquiring of a policeman "the handiest way to get to Pine Street." Following the directions given, he boarded a train at the nearest subway station, emerged at Wall Street, inquired once more, located the street he was looking for, and, consulting a card which he took from a big stained leather pocket-book, walked on, peering at the numbers of the buildings he pa.s.sed.

The offices of Sylvester, Kuhn, and Graves, were on the sixteenth floor of a new and gorgeously appointed sky-sc.r.a.per. When Captain Elisha entered the firm's reception room, he was accosted by a wide-awake and extremely self-possessed office boy.

"Who'd you want to see?" asked the boy, briskly.

The captain removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Hold on a jiffy, Sonny," he panted. "Just give me a minute to sort of get myself together, as you might say. I rode up in one of those express elevators of yours, and I kind of feel as if my boots had got tangled up with my necktie. When that elevator feller cast off from the cellar, I begun to shut up like a spygla.s.s. Whew! Say, Son, is Mr. Graves in?"

"No," replied the boy, grinning.

"Hum! Still in the sick bay, is he--hey?"

"He's to home. Got a cold."

"Yup. It's too bad. Mr.--er--Sylvester, is he in?"

"Naw, he ain't. And Mr. Kuhn's busy. Won't one of the clerks do? What do you want to see the firm about?"

"Well, Son, I had reasons of my own. However, I guess I won't disturb Mr. Kuhn, if he's busy's you say. Here! you tell him, or Mr. Sylvester when he comes, that Cap'n Warren, Cap'n Elisha Warren of South Denboro--better write it down--called and will be back about half past twelve or thereabouts. Got it, have you? Hum! is that Elisha? You don't tell me! I've been spellin' it for sixty years, more or less, and never realized it had such possibilities. Lend me your pencil. There! you give Mr. Sylvester that and tell him I'll see him later. So long, Son."