reat responsibility in the matter. This sense of responsibility caused
him to assume more and more optimism as his nervousness increased. Each
day of waiting found him covering his disappointment and anxiety with a
more cheerful prophecy.

"I've been thinking, Miss Martha," he said, "that Cousin Gussie must be
MOST interested in the--ah--Development Company. I really believe that
he may be considering going into it himself--ah--extensively, so to
speak. The more he delays replying to our letter, the more certain I am
that this is the case. You see, it is quite logical. Dear me, yes. If he
were not interested at all he would have replied at once, any one would.
And if only a little interested, he would have replied--say, at the end
of a week. But now he has taken almost three weeks, so--so--well, _I_
think we may infer GREAT interest, personal interest on his part. Now,
don't you think so, Miss Martha?"

Martha shrugged. "Accordin' to that reasonin," she said, "if he never
answers at all it'll be because he's interested to death. Well, it
begins to look as if that might be it. There, there, Mr. Bangs, I
mustn't talk that way, must I? We won't give up the ship as long's the
pumps work, as father used to say."

It was the first symptom of discouragement she had shown. The next
morning Galusha crept downstairs before daylight, left a note on the
dining table saying he would be back next day, and started on his long
tramp to the railway station. At noon of that day he entered the Boston
office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot.

Disappointment met him at the threshold, so to speak. The young,
extremely young, gentleman at the desk by the door, informed him that
Mr. Augustus Cabot was not in. Pressed still further, he admitted that
he would not be in that day. No, he would not be in that week. No, he
was not in Boston. Where was he? Well, he had gone away and the date of
his return was extremely uncertain.

Galusha, his spirits at a low ebb, stroked his chin in sad perplexity.

"Dear me! Dear me!" he observed. And then added:

"Is--is anybody in?"

Considering that the space behind the mahogany and brass railings was
crowded with clerks and that from the various inner offices people
were constantly coming and going, the question was peculiar. The young
guardian of the portal seemed to find it so. He regarded Mr. Bangs
with the puzzled stare of one not certain whether he has to do with a
would-be joker or an imbecile.

"