tened
intently.

"He was a poor boy from a country farm. Your mother and the girls,
were boarding at his home. I went up for Sundays, for I liked his
horses. I never felt I could afford to own one---- Don't buy a horse,
Adrian!"

"No, father. Not yet. I'm rather more anxious to buy a certain moose I
know and present it to the city Zoo. King Madoc. You remember I told
you about the trained animal, who would swim and tow a boat, and could
be harnessed to draw a sleigh?"

"Umm. Indeed? Remarkable. Quite remarkable. But I wouldn't do it, boy.
The gift would not be appreciated. Nobody ever does appreciate
anything. It is a selfish world. A selfish world, and an ungrateful
one."

"Not wholly, father, I hope."

"We were talking. What about? I--my memory--so much care, and the
difficulty of keeping secrets. It's hard to keep everything to one's
self when a man grows old, Adrian."

"Yes, father dear. But I'm at home now to stay. You must trust me more
and rely upon me. Believe me, I will deserve your confidence. But it
was the boy from the farm you were telling me of, and the horses."

In all his life Adrian had never drawn so near his father's real self
as he was drawing then. He rejoiced in this fact as a part of the
reward of his more filial behavior. He meant wholly what he had just
promised, but he was still most anxious to hear this old story from
this participant's own lips, while they were together, undisturbed.

"Yes, yes. Well, I thought I could drive a pair of colts as well as
any jockey, though I knew no more about driving than any other city
business man. Of course, they ran away, and I should have been killed,
but that little shaver---- Why, Adrian, that little shaver just sprung
on the back of one, from where he'd been beside me in the wagon, and
he held and pulled and wouldn't let go till they'd quieted down, and
then he was thrown off and nearly trampled to death. I wasn't hurt a
bit, not a single bit. You'd think I'd befriend such a brave,
unselfish little chap as that, wouldn't you, lad?"

In the interest of his recital Mr. Wadislaw had risen and paced the
floor, but he now sat down again, flushed and a bit confused.

"What did you do for him, father?"

"Hmm. What? Oh! yes. Found out he wanted to come to New York and put
him to school. Made a man of him. Gave him a place in the bank.
Promoted him, promoted him, promoted him. Till he got almost as high
as I was myself. Trusted him with everything