ep you with me, but you can see for yourself that for the
moment you would be an encumbrance. Later on, no doubt, when my
affairs are more settled...."

"Oh, I understand. I'm resigned. But, oh dear! it's going to be very
dull down at Brookport."

"Nonsense, nonsense! It's a delightful spot."

"Have you been there?"

"No. But of course everybody knows Brookport. Healthy,
invigorating.... Sure to be. The very name.... You'll be as happy as
the days are long!"

"And how long will the days be!"

"Come, come. You mustn't look on the dark side."

"Is there another?" Jill laughed. "You are an old humbug, Uncle Chris.
You know perfectly well what you're condemning me to. I expect
Brookport will be like a sort of Southend in winter. Oh, well, I'll be
brave. But do hurry and make a fortune, because I want to come to New
York."

"My dear," said Uncle Chris solemnly, "if there is a dollar lying
loose in this city, rest assured that I shall have it! And, if it's
not loose, I will detach it with the greatest possible speed. You have
only known me in my decadence, an idle and unprofitable London
clubman. I can assure you that lurking beneath the surface, there is
a business acumen given to few men...."

"Oh, if you are going to talk poetry," said Jill, "I'll leave you.
Anyhow, I ought to be getting below and putting my things together."

II

If Jill's vision of Brookport as a wintry Southend was not entirely
fulfilled, neither was Uncle Chris' picture of it as an earthly
paradise. At the right time of the year, like most of the summer
resorts on the south shore of Long Island, it is not without its
attractions; but January is not the month which most people would
choose for living in it. It presented itself to Jill on first
acquaintance in the aspect of a wind-swept railroad station, dumped
down far away from human habitation in the middle of a stretch of flat
and ragged country that reminded her a little of parts of Surrey. The
station was just a shed on a foundation of planks which lay flush with
the rails. From this shed, as the train clanked in, there emerged a
tall, shambling man in a weather-beaten overcoat. He had a
clean-shaven, wrinkled face, and he looked doubtfully at Jill with
small eyes. Something in his expression reminded Jill of her father,
as a bad caricature of a public man will recall the original. She
introduced herself.

"If you're Uncle Elmer," she said, "I'm Jill."

The man held out a long