r lap. The first evidence of unbiased
friendship he had seen in days shone in her smile. She took his hand
and said simply, "We are glad to welcome the prodigal to his home
again."

"I remind myself more of the fatted calf."

His first self-consciousness had gone.

"I thought of that, but I didn't dare say it," she laughed. "One must
be respectful to rich relatives."

"Hang your rich relatives, Peggy; if I thought that this money would
make any difference I would give it up this minute."

"Nonsense, Monty," she said. "How could it make a difference? But you
must admit it is rather startling. The friend of our youth leaves his
humble dwelling Saturday night with his salary drawn for two weeks
ahead. He returns the following Thursday a dazzling millionaire."

"I'm glad I've begun to dazzle, anyway. I thought it might be hard to
look the part."

"Well, I can't see that you are much changed." There was a suggestion
of a quaver in her voice, and the shadows did not prevent him from
seeing the quick mist that flitted across her deep eyes.

"After all, it's easy work being a millionaire," he explained, "when
you've always had million-dollar inclinations."

"And fifty-cent possibilities," she added.

"Really, though, I'll never get as much joy out of my abundant riches
as I did out of financial embarrassments."

"But think how fine it is, Monty, not ever to wonder where your
winter's overcoat is to come from and how long the coal will last, and
all that."

"Oh, I never wondered about my overcoats; the tailor did the wondering.
But I wish I could go on living here just as before. I'd a heap rather
live here than at that gloomy place on the avenue." "That sounded like
the things you used to say when we played in the garret. You'd a heap
sooner do this than that--don't you remember?"

"That's just why I'd rather live here, Peggy. Last night I fell to
thinking of that old garret, and hanged if something didn't come up and
stick in my throat so tight that I wanted to cry. How long has it been
since we played up there? Yes, and how long has it been since I read
'Oliver Optic' to you, lying there in the garret window while you sat
with your back against the wall, your blue eyes as big as dollars?"

"Oh, dear me, Monty, it was ages ago--twelve or thirteen years at
least," she cried, a soft light in her eyes.

"I'm going up there this afternoon to see what the place is like," he
said eagerly. "And, Peggy, you must com