n't vulgar in his boasting, I understand; he doesn't talk a
great deal about his--his actual money--though there was something about
blades of grass that I didn't comprehend. I think he meant something
about his energy--but perhaps not. No, his bragging usually seemed to be
not so much a personal vainglory as about his family and the greatness
of this city."

"'Greatness of this city'!" Mr. Vertrees echoed, with dull bitterness.
"It's nothing but a coal-hole! I suppose it looks 'great' to the man who
has the luck to make it work for him. I suppose it looks 'great' to any
YOUNG man, too, starting out to make his fortune out of it. The fellows
that get what they want out of it say it's 'great,' and everybody else
gets the habit. But you have a different point of view if it's the
city that got what it wanted out of you! Of course Sheridan says it's
'great'."

Mrs. Vertrees seemed unaware of this unusual outburst. "I believe," she
began, timidly, "he doesn't boast of--that is, I understand he has never
seemed so interested in the--the other one."

Her husband's face was dark, but at that a heavier shadow fell upon
it; he looked more haggard than before. "'The other one'," he repeated,
averting his eyes. "You mean--you mean the third son--the one that was
here this evening?"

"Yes, the--the youngest," she returned, her voice so feeble it was
almost a whisper.

And then neither of them spoke for several long minutes. Nor did either
look at the other during that silence.

At last Mr. Vertrees contrived to cough, but not convincingly.
"What--ah--what was it Mary said about him out in the hall, when she
came in this afternoon? I heard you asking her something about him, but
she answered in such a low voice I didn't--ah--happen to catch it."

"She--she didn't say much. All she said was this: I asked her if she had
enjoyed her walk with him, and she said, 'He's the most wistful creature
I've ever known.'"

"Well?"

"That was all. He IS wistful-looking; and so fragile--though he doesn't
seem quite so much so lately. I was watching Mary from the window when
she went out to-day, and he joined her, and if I hadn't known about him
I'd have thought he had quite an interesting face."

"If you 'hadn't known about him'? Known what?"

"Oh, nothing, of course," she said, hurriedly. "Nothing definite, that
is. Mary said decidely, long ago, that he's not at all insane, as we
thought at first. It's only--well, of course it IS odd,