"Yes."

"It is strange. I don't understand it."

Edgar was relieved to find that Mark did not claim him as a cousin, though to his surprise he saw that Mark stood particularly well with the young hostess.

"How do you, Mark?" The speaker was a bright boy of sixteen, the brother of Miss Gilbert. "How well you are looking!"

"Thank you, Charlie. If a young lady had told me that it would make me proud."

"Come along. I will introduce you to a couple of nice girls."

"Who is that?" asked Edgar of Rayburn, who had now come up.

"Don't you know? That is Charlie Gilbert, Maud's brother."

"So he knows Mark, too."

"Why shouldn't he?"

"Because Mark is--you will be surprised to hear it--a common telegraph boy."

"He may be a telegraph boy, but he certainly is not a common one. He is a nice-looking fellow, and I am glad to know him."

Presently dancing began. In his earlier days, when his father was living, Mark had taken lessons from a teacher, and though he was rather out of practise he ventured to go out on the floor, having as his partner one of the prettiest girls in the room.

As there was s.p.a.ce for but two sets of dancers, Edgar was obliged to sit still and see the others dance. He felt very much dissatisfied especially as Mark seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

"Society in New York seems to be very much mixed," he said to himself, "when telegraph boys can push in and make themselves so conspicuous in rich men's houses."

Edgar got a chance to dance once later on, but the girl he danced with was very small and insignificant in appearance.

"Well, what kind of a time did you have?" asked Solon Talbot when his son returned home.

"Very good."

"I suppose it was quite a brilliant affair," said Solon Talbot complacently. "I am glad to have you invited to such a swell house. Did Stanley Rayburn take you up to Miss Gilbert?"

"No; he promised to, but when I looked for him he was not to be found."

"That was awkward."

"No; I found a subst.i.tute, a boy whom you and I both know."

"I have no idea whom you can mean."

"No; you might guess all night, but without success. It was Mark Mason."

"What! You don't mean to say that Mark Mason was a guest at the party?"

"Yes he was, and he seemed very well acquainted too."

"Was he in his telegraph uniform?"

"No; he had on a nice new suit, as handsome as mine. He had a rose in his b.u.t.tonhole and looked quite like a dude."

"How very extraordinary!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Solon.

"I thought you would say so."

"Why, they are living from hand to mouth, steeped in poverty."

"So I thought, but it doesn't seem like it."

"The boy must be very cheeky, but even so, I can't account for his success. I shall have to call on his mother and ask what it means."

CHAPTER XXVI.

AN IMPORTANT COMMISSION.

A WEEK later Mark received the follow letter:

"Mark Mason: Please call at my office as soon as convenient.

"D. GILBERT."

"This letter is from Maud Gilbert's father," said Mark, addressing his mother. "I wonder what he wants."

"Nothing disagreeable, I am sure. Of course you will go."

"I will call to-morrow morning."

Mr. Gilbert was a commission merchant, with an office in the lower part of the city, west of Broadway. Mark obtained leave of absence for an hour agreeing to pay the price usually charged to customers.

He had seen Mr. Gilbert, a stout, portly man of fifty, during his call at the house in Forty-Fifth Street. Therefore when he was admitted to Mr. Gilbert's office, he addressed him not as a stranger but as an old acquaintance.

"I received your note, Mr. Gilbert, and have called according to your request."

"That is right, Mark. Sit down till I have finished looking over my letters. You will find the morning _Herald_ on the table near you."

In ten minutes the merchant had finished with his letters, and whirled round in his chair.

"I believe you are a telegraph boy," he said.