ustling of winds in the forest, and the song of
birds. The grand old mountains that surrounded Sandgate had been the
delight of his boyhood, and to fish in the clear streams that tumbled
down through narrow gorges and wound amid wide meadows, or in the
lily-dotted mill pond, his pastime. He had the artist's nature in him
also, and loved dearly to sketch a pretty bit of natural scenery, a
cascade in the brook or a shady grotto in the woods. He loved books,
flowers, music, green meadows, shady woods, and fields white with
daisies. He had been reared among kind-hearted, honest, God-fearing
people who seldom locked their doors at night and who believed in and
lived by the Golden Rule. The selfish and distrustful life of a great
city, with its arrogance and wealth and vanity of display, was not akin
to him, and to put himself at the beck and call of a mercenary and
utterly unscrupulous old villain, as he believed Frye to be, was gall
and bitterness. For two weeks he worked patiently, hoping each day that
the one and only friend the city held for him would call, passing his
evenings, as he wrote Alice, "in reading, smoking, and hating myself a
little, and Frye a good deal."

He had hesitated to write Frank in the first place, disliking to ask
favors, but it could not be helped, and now he began to feel that his
friend meant to ignore him. This humiliating conclusion was growing to a
certainty, and Albert feeling more homesick than ever, when one
afternoon, while he was as usual hard at work in Frye's office, Frank
came in.

"Pray excuse me, old man," remarked that youth briskly, after the first
greetings, "for not calling sooner, but I was off on my yacht about the
time you came, and then I ran down to New York to take in the cup races.
You see, I'm so busy I do not get any time to myself. I want you to come
over to the club and lunch with me to-day, and we can talk matters
over."

"You will kindly excuse me," replied Albert. "I have a lot of work cut
out, and am only allowed one hour for lunch. Can't you come around to my
room to-night and have a smoke-talk?"

"Maybe," replied Frank, "and we can go around to the club later. You
will meet some good fellows there, and we always make up a game of
draw--small limit, you know. Say, old man," he added interestedly, "how
do you like Frye?"

As that worthy happened to be out just then, the two friends had a good
chance to exchange opinions. Albert's is already known, but, for