y out of
it. I'll tell you exactly what I propose to do. You think my hotel is
a pretty poor hotel, eh? Well, you'll have plenty of opportunity of
judging, because you're coming to live here. I'll let you have a suite
and I'll let you have your meals, but outside of that--nothing doing!
Nothing doing! Do you understand what I mean?"

"Absolutely! You mean, 'Napoo!'"

"You can sign bills for a reasonable amount in my restaurant, and the
hotel will look after your laundry. But not a cent do you get out me.
And, if you want your shoes shined, you can pay for it yourself in
the basement. If you leave them outside your door, I'll instruct the
floor-waiter to throw them down the air-shaft. Do you understand? Good!
Now, is there anything more you want to ask?"

Archie smiled a propitiatory smile.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I was going to ask if you would stagger
along and have a bite with us in the grill-room?"

"I will not!"

"I'll sign the bill," said Archie, ingratiatingly. "You don't think much
of it? Oh, right-o!"

CHAPTER IV. WORK WANTED

It seemed to Archie, as he surveyed his position at the end of the first
month of his married life, that all was for the best in the best of all
possible worlds. In their attitude towards America, visiting Englishmen
almost invariably incline to extremes, either detesting all that therein
is or else becoming enthusiasts on the subject of the country, its
climate, and its institutions. Archie belonged to the second class. He
liked America and got on splendidly with Americans from the start. He
was a friendly soul, a mixer; and in New York, that city of mixers,
he found himself at home. The atmosphere of good-fellowship and the
open-hearted hospitality of everybody he met appealed to him. There were
moments when it seemed to him as though New York had simply been waiting
for him to arrive before giving the word to let the revels commence.

Nothing, of course, in this world is perfect; and, rosy as were the
glasses through which Archie looked on his new surroundings, he had to
admit that there was one flaw, one fly in the ointment, one individual
caterpillar in the salad. Mr. Daniel Brewster, his father-in-law,
remained consistently unfriendly. Indeed, his manner towards his new
relative became daily more and more a manner which would have caused
gossip on the plantation if Simon Legree had exhibited it in his
relations with Uncle Tom. And this in spite of the fact tha