ng of his exit and the way to make
it. "Always take your leave like a gentleman," was one of his father's
maxims. This he would try his best to accomplish.

Mrs. McGuffey, in white cap and snow-white apron, now that Miss Felicia
had arrived, was the medium of communication this time:

"Indeed, they are both in--this way, sir, and let me have your hat and
coat."

It was a delightful party that greeted the boy. Peter was standing on
the hearth-rug with his back to the fire, his coat-tails hooked over
his wrists. Miss Felicia sat by a small table pretending to sew. Holker
Morris was swallowed up in one of Peter's big easy-chairs, only the
top of his distinguished head visible, while a little chub of a man,
gray-haired, spectacled and plainly dressed, was seated behind him, the
two talking in an undertone.

"Why, Breen!--why, my dear boy!--And you have a holiday, too? How did
you know I was home?" cried Peter, extending both hands in the joy of
his greeting.

"I stopped at the Bank, sir."

"Did you?--and who told you?"

"The janitor, I suppose."

"Oh, the good Patrick! Well, well! Holker, you remember young Breen."

Holker did remember, for a wonder, and extended one hand to prove it,
and Felicia--but the boy was already bending over her, all his respect
and admiration in his eyes. The little chub of a man was now on his
feet, standing in an attentive attitude, ready to take his cue from
Peter.

"And now, my boy, turn this way, and let me introduce you to my very
dear friend, Mr. Isaac Cohen."

A pudgy hand was thrust out and the spectacled little man, his eyes
on the boy, said he was glad to know any friend of Mr. Grayson, and
resuming his seat continued his conversation in still lower tones with
the great architect.

Jack stood irresolute for an instant, not knowing whether to make some
excuse for his evidently inopportune visit and return later, or to keep
his seat until the others had gone. Miss Felicia, who had not taken her
gaze from the lad since he entered the room, called him to her side.

"Now, tell me what you are all doing at home, and how your dear aunt is,
and--Miss Corinne, isn't it? And that very bright young fellow who came
with you at Ruth's tea?"

It was the last subject that Jack wanted to discuss, but he stumbled
through it as best he could, and ended in hoping, in a halting tone,
that Miss MacFarlane was well.

"Ruth! Oh, she is a darling! Didn't you think so?"

Jack blushed to th