one evening at David's, on the occasion of
the visit to which I have referred in the last chapter:

'How is it, Cragin, that you pass for only a hundred thousand, when
Hallet is rated at a million?'

'Because, Ned, I'm not worth any more.'

'But how is that, when you have two fifths of the concern?'

'Well, Hallet went into cotton like the devil some eight years ago; and
I told him I wouldn't stand it; I like to feel the ground under me.
Since then he has speculated on his own account--he and old Roye go it
strong, and I guess they've made some pretty heavy lifts.'

'That's uncertain business.'

'Yes, devilish uncertain; but somehow they manage always to hold winning
cards. Hallet has told me his New Orleans operations have netted him
five hundred thousand.'

'And that, with what he got by his wife, has rolled him into a
millionaire before he's forty-five! He's a lucky fellow.'

'Lucky! I wouldn't stand in his boots. What goes up _may_ come down. He
has no peace. His wife's a hyena. She makes home too hot for him; and
somehow he's never easy. He walks about as if treading on torpedoes.

'If you dislike speculation, why don't you increase your legitimate
business?'

'Hallet's away so much, I can't do it. I'm glued to the old office. I
should have been in Europe half of the time the last three years, but I
haven't been able to get away.'

'Why not send Frank? He's old enough now.'

'I mean to, in the spring, and I'm d--d if he shan't be a partner soon,
and take some of this load off my shoulders. But do you know that Hallet
has a decided dislike to him?'

'No! On what account?' I exclaimed. I had met Hallet only twice during
four years, but on both occasions he had spoken favorably of his son.
Frank himself had never alluded in other than respectful terms to his
father.

'Well, I don't know, and it makes no difference. I'm captain at this end
of the towline, and I swear he shall go in.

'As you feel so kindly toward Frank, I'll give him a chance to
conciliate Hallet. I'll take him South this winter, and introduce him to
our correspondents. With his address he ought to do something with them.
Will you let him go?'

'Yes, and be right down glad to have him. When do you start?'

'About the middle of December.'

A fortnight afterward, with Selma and Frank, I again visited Preston's
plantation.

CHAPTER XVI.

It was Christmas morning when we rode up the long, winding avenue, and
halted before the d