ld see that Dr. Theophilus was growing sterner
over his flippancy.

"Well, you're a gay old bird, George," he remarked, "and I dare say you
think me something of a prude."

Tearing off a leaf from his prescription book, he laid it on the table,
and held out his hand. Then he stood for a minute with his eyes on
Robin, who was marching stiffly round a bed of red geraniums near the
gate. "It's time to go," he added; "that old dog of mine is getting
ready to root up your geraniums."

"You'd better keep a cat," observed the General, "they do less damage."

Young George and I, who had stood in the shadow of the wistaria awaiting
the doctor's departure, came forward now, and I made my awkward bow to
the General's bandaged foot.

"Any relative of Jack Starr?" he enquired affably as he shook my hand.

I towered so conspicuously above him, while I stood there with my hat in
my hand, that I was for a moment embarrassed by my mere physical
advantages.

"No, sir, not that I ever heard of," I answered.

"Then you ought to be thankful," he returned peevishly, "for the first
time I ever met the fellow he deliberately trod on my toe--deliberately,
sir. And now they're wanting to nominate him for governor--but I say
they shan't do it. I've no idea of allowing it. It's utterly out of the
question."

"Uncle George, I've brought Ben to see your library," interrupted young
George at my elbow.

"Library, eh? Are you going to be a lawyer?" demanded the General.

I shook my head.

"A preacher?" in a more reverent voice.

"No, sir, I'm in the Old Dominion Tobacco Works. You got me my first
job."

"I got you your job--did I? Then you're the young chap that discovered
that blend for smoking. I told Bob you ought to have a royalty on that.
Did he give it to you?"

"I'm to have ten per cent of the sales, sir. They've just begun."

"Well, hold on to it--it's a good blend. I tried it. And when you get
your ten per cent, put it into the Old South Chemical Company, if you
want to grow rich. It isn't everybody I'd give that tip to, but I like
the looks of you. How tall are you?"

"Six feet one in my stockings."

"Well, I wouldn't grow any more. You're all right, if you can only
manage to keep your hands and feet down. You've got good eyes and a good
jaw, and it's the jaw that tells the man. Now, that's the trouble with
that Jack Starr they want to nominate for governor. He lacks jaw. 'You
can't make a governor out of a fellow who