aturally old face in a most remarkable way. His shock of hair was
flame-colored--and exactly matched the tie he wore.

"Say!" this youngster said. "You'll know me again; eh? My name's
'Scorch' O'Brien. What's yours?"

"I--I'm Nancy Nelson," confessed the girl, but beginning to smile at him
now. He _was_ too funny for anything. "And I've come to see Mr. Gordon."

"Not Old Gudgeon? He never had a lady come to see him before," announced
the office boy, explosively. "Sure it's him you want?"

"Mr. Henry Gordon," declared Nancy, in some doubt.

"Henery is his front name," admitted Scorch, rumpling his red top-knot.
"But I guess I'd better ask first if he'll have you in."

"Just tell him it's me, please," said Nancy, faintly.

"What did you say the name was, Miss?"

"Nancy Nelson. He'll know. I'm his ward."

"Aw, no! You ain't?"

"Yes, I am," said Nancy, nodding.

"Never knowed he had one. So he is yer guardeen?" grunted the red-haired
boy, unwinding his legs.

The girl thought she had chatted quite enough with this very bold youth,
so made no further reply.

"Ain't he the sly one?" proceeded "Scorch" O'Brien, shaking his head.
"Him a guardeen--an' I never knowed it before."

Evidently the fact that anything of such moment had escaped him rasped
the temper of the boy. He went off muttering, and came back again, in a
minute, grinning.

"Say! he must have robbed you of the estate. It sure scared him when I
announced your name. Never seen him turn a hair before; but he wasn't
looking for no 'Nancy Nelson' ter come up and confront him like this."

Nancy, rather offended at this "fresh" youth, swept by him through the
gateway and approached the door to which she had seen the flame-haired
"Scorch" go in his quest of Mr. Gordon.

Yes! "Mr. Henry Gordon" was painted upon the door. She opened it slowly
and looked in.

There was a great, broad table-desk, piled high with books and papers--a
veritable wilderness of books and papers. In a broad armchair, with his
back to the door, sat "Old Gudgeon," as "Scorch" had disrespectfully
called Mr. Henry Gordon.

He was as broad as his chair. Indeed, he seemed to have been forced into
it between the arms, by hydraulic pressure. Nancy did not see how he
ever _could_ get out of it!

He had enormous shoulders, fairly "humped" with layers of fat. His head
was thrust forward as he wrote, and his shaven neck was pink, and bare,
and overlapped his collar in a most astonishing