d, Baxter?" asked Mr.
Checkynshaw of a busy person who had worked his way through the crowd.
"You have two or three boys."

Mr. Baxter examined the palace and its denizens, and answered that he
did want one, though not till the banker informed him that he had
purchased one. It is wonderful how things sell after a great man has
purchased. The new customer did not want any two-dollar palaces; he
desired one as good as any other person had, and he gave his order
accordingly. If Mr. Checkynshaw was fool enough to pay six dollars for
such an establishment, Mr. Baxter could not suffer in reputation by
doing the same.

Leo was as happy as a lord. It was make, and not break.

"Leo," said the banker, "how is your father?"

"Better, sir, I thank you."

"I think I will go down and see him. He has shaved me for years. By the
way, is your sister--what's her name?"

"Maggie, sir."

"Is Maggie at home?"

"Yes, sir."

"I wish to see her very much," said Mr. Checkynshaw, walking away.

What could he want to see Maggie for? was Leo's thought, as he started
his team--Tom Casey--up State Street.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE LETTER FROM MARGUERITE.

Mr. Checkynshaw walked down to No. 3 Phillimore Court. It was very
plain that he had business there, for it was not his style to visit a
poor man who was sick. He was admitted by Maggie, who feared that his
coming related to the robbery of his safe, and that Leo might be in
some manner implicated in that affair.

"How is your father, miss?" asked the stately gentleman from State
Street, as he entered the house.

"He is more comfortable to-day, sir; but I don't know that he is really
any better," answered Maggie.

"I am very sorry he is sick. I miss him very much. He has waited upon
me at the shop for several years, and I never let any other barber
shave me, if I can have him by waiting an hour," added Mr. Checkynshaw,
with a degree of condescension which he rarely exhibited. "You are his
daughter, I believe."

"Not his own daughter; but it is just the same."

"I think I have seen you at the shop several times."

"Yes, I always carry up _mon pere's_ dinner at half past twelve. He
can't come home at noon."

"_Mon pere!_ You speak French--do you?"

"Yes, sir. I speak French and English equally well. Won't you go in and
see _mon pere_!"

Mr. Checkynshaw would be very glad to see Andre, and Maggie conducted
him to the front room.

"I am sorry you are sick, Andre," said