"Fine!" was the enthusiastic rejoinder. "You must have a will of iron.
Those things do pull you about a bit, though. I remember an affair of
my own with little Kitty Bond--second from the left in the front row
of the Gaiety, you know. For three days she was simply dropping
sugarplums down my throat, never took her eyes off me all through the
show, welcome at any hour to the flat, though mother was in the
country visiting the parson uncle--all the usual sort of slush, you
know. And then one day some one told her about dad and figured out
what my income was likely to be. Little Johnny in the rubber market it
was. I shall never forget the night Kitty introduced me and then went
off to supper with him in his coupe. Fairly gave me the pip."

"I beg," Jacob said with dignity, "that you will not compare your calf
love for a picture-postcard young lady with what might easily have
been a great passion."

Felixstowe tapped a cigarette upon the rail and lit it.

"It took me more than three days to get over it, at any rate," he
remarked pointedly.

A grave-looking, clean-shaven young man, very neatly dressed and
wearing thin, gold-rimmed spectacles, met them as they stepped off the
steamer.

"Mr. Jacob Pratt, I am sure?" he said. "My name is Morse--Sydney H.
Morse. I am your brother's secretary."

"How is Sam?" Jacob enquired eagerly.

"He is in precisely the same condition of coma," the secretary
replied. "The physician says that he may remain so for days."

"Shall I be able to see him?"

"Doctor Bardolf will discuss that with you, Mr. Pratt. In the
meantime, one of your brother's servants is here to see after all the
luggage and pass it through the Customs, if you will hand him the
list. I have a car here for you and--and--"

"My secretary," Jacob indicated. "Mr. Sydney Morse--Lord Felixstowe."

The former, startled for a moment out of his gravity, solemnly shook
hands.

"Glad to meet you, Lord Felixstowe," he said impressively. "Welcome to
New York."

"I am very glad to be here," Felixstowe observed, as he returned the
other's salute in friendly fashion. "Gay little hamlet, what?"

"It's a city full of interest, sir," the other affirmed.

"You'll have to show me around. I bet you know the ropes. The pick of
the world's fluff on its home soil, eh?"

The New Yorker looked a little staggered and edged his way towards
Jacob.

"Here is the car, Mr. Pratt," he announced, opening the door of a very
handsome l