fidence. If this last character was satisfied, then an interview
could be had with the great man himself.

I say, one day Hiram was seated in his most private apartment, quite
alone. He was engaged in calculations for some large real-estate
improvements involving an outlay of at least a million of dollars. He
had given orders not to be interrupted, and was deeply absorbed in his
plans, when the door opened, and a young man came in with a quick step.

Hiram did not look up. He supposed it was some one connected with the
establishment.

'Is this Mr. Meeker?' was asked, in a vigorous, earnest voice.

Hiram raised his head, and beheld an individual apparently
five-and-twenty, dressed rather carelessly, but in the manner of a
gentleman. He was of goodly proportions, and had dark hair, a clear
complexion, and keen gray eyes.

Hiram made no reply to the question, except to ask, 'What is your name?'

'Dr. Ephraim Peters,' said the young man with the sparkling gray eyes.

'Who admitted you?' continued Hiram.

'I had a pressing errand of life and death, and could not wait for a
formal presentation.'

'What is your business?'

Dr. Peters took a seat with considerable deliberation, while Hiram
waited, with a displeased look, for him to reply.

'You are the owner of the block of 'model houses,' as they are called?'

Hiram nodded.

'A patient of mine, a laboring man, is one of your tenants. He broke his
leg a few months ago, falling from a scaffolding. He has had hard work
to live since. Thursday his wife was taken ill. Yesterday was rent
day--he pays monthly in advance. He could not get the money, and your
agent refuses to give him any grace. Now what I want to say is, the poor
woman can't be moved without danger to her life.'

'Well?'

'Well,' echoed the other, 'I want to get an order from you to let her
remain.'

'See the agent.'

'I have seen him; and, what is more, although I am poor enough
myself--for I am just starting, you see, in New York--I offered to pawn
my watch and pay the rent myself, but the man would not take it.'

'No?'

'No, he would not. He said they had gone over the time, and he did not
want tenants who depended on charity to pay rent; besides he said he was
afraid the woman was going to die, and he did not want a death in the
building--it would give it a bad name.'

The young man paused, with the air of one who had made a successful
argument, and was waiting for an auspicious result.