king, his heels striking
the floor, bustling about in his prompt, exact manner, examining the few
curios and keepsakes on the mantel and tables, running his eyes over the
rows of bindings lining the small bookcase; his hand on Jack's shoulder
whenever the boy opened some favorite author to hunt for a passage to
read aloud to Peter, listening with delight, whether the quotation was
old or new to him.

Jack, suddenly remembering that his guest was standing, tried to lead
him back to his seat by the fire, but Peter would have none of it.

"No--too late. Why, bless me, it's after eleven o'clock! Hear the
music--they are still at it. Now I'm going to insist that you go down
and have a turn around the room yourself; there were such a lot of
pretty girls when I came in."

"Too late for that, too," laughed Jack, merry once more. "Corinne
wouldn't speak to me if I showed my face now, and then there will be
plenty more dances which I can go to, and so make it all up with her.
I'm not yet as sorry as I ought to be about this dance. Your being here
has been such a delight. May I--may--I come and see you some time?"

"That's just what you will do, and right away. Just as soon as my dear
sister Felicia comes down, and she'll be here very soon. I'll send
for you, never fear. Yes, the right sleeve first, and now my hat and
umbrella. Ah, here they are. Now, good night, my boy, and thank you for
letting me come."

"You know I dare not go down with you," explained Jack with a smile.

"Oh, yes--I know--I know. Good night--" and the sharp, quick tread of
the old man grew fainter and fainter as he descended the stairs.

Jack waited, craning his head, until he caught a glimpse of the
glistening head as it passed once more under the lantern, then he went
into his room and shut the door.

Had he followed behind his guest he would have witnessed a little comedy
which would have gone far in wiping clean all trace of his uncle's
disparaging remarks of the morning. He would have enjoyed, too,
Parkins's amazement. As the Receiving Teller of the Exeter Bank
reached the hall floor the President of the Clearing House--the most
distinguished man in the Street and one to whom Breen kotowed with
genuflections equalling those of Parkins--accompanied by his daughter
and followed by the senior partner of Breen & Co., were making their
way to the front door. The second man in the chocolate livery with the
potato-bug waistcoat had brought the Magnate'