he only S.
C. mortgage that has slipped up so far on our hands, I should
advise you to be patient a few more days. Perhaps you had
better give the party leeway up to Dec. 1, if necessary, as it
is his first default since you took the papers, three years
ago. However, if you are impatient and wish to settle the
matter, send me down the trust deeds and notes. Run in any
time. I shall be glad to see you.

Very truly yours,
JOSEPH TODD.

Young Ellesworth carefully deposited his cigar in the bronze ash
receiver on the polished table by his side, and pulled out from his
breast pocket a notebook which he consulted. After a few moments he
seemed to satisfy himself as to the identity of his mortgager Benson;
put his papers up, and sank back into a reverie.

The gray November day seemed to have contented itself with monopolizing
the streets and the faded Common, and the poor tenements, and the ragged
stragglers, and to have passed by the windows of Beacon Street, and the
luxurious smoking-room of the new University Club. Francis Ellesworth
sprawled listlessly in the deep chair by the window, and vaguely
congratulated himself that he did not have to earn his supper. It was
lucky that he did not have to, for any tyro of a physiognomist could
have seen at a glance that the delicate features, the sallow complexion,
brightened by red spots upon his cheeks, the gentle black eyes and the
straight black hair, did not belong to a robust New England body.

The trouble with Ellesworth was, not that he was rich enough not to have
to work, but that he was born at all. He considered it only a fair
compensation for this insult that three years ago he had fallen heir to
seventy-five thousand dollars, which he had successfully invested and
reinvested ever since. This occupation, and the clubs and a few other
necessary amusements formed his life.

He was not handsome, but just interesting looking enough not to pass
unnoticed. He was not vulgar; that is to say, he did not drink too much,
did not swear, and was not the kind of a fellow who compromises a woman
by his attentions. He was neither clever nor stupid. Thousands of young
men in our great cities are of this type, unimportant to men of intent,
and a missionary field to women of character.

He needed an electric shock either to kill him or make a man of him. But
perhaps, after all, Ellesworth was not wholly to blame for not trying to
make hi