what he wants?"

"He wants?"

"She wants, I mean. Old Jamie came halting up to me yesterday, and
ventured to suggest his Mercy might be invited to the dancing-class
Mrs. Bowdoin is having for the children."

"Whew!" said Mr. Bowdoin. "The old lady'll never stand it."

"Never in the world," said Mr. James.

"Upon my word, I don't know why not, though!"

"I'm afraid she does, though!"

"I'll ask her, anyhow. And, James, if I don't get to the office
to-morrow, I'll write you her answer."

"And have me tell poor Jamie," laughed Mr. James.

"Well," said Mr. Bowdoin hastily, "you can say it's my letter--I'm
late at the bank"--

The old gentleman hurried off; but his prediction proved well founded.
Whether Mrs. Bowdoin had noticed the effect of pretty Mercedes upon
young Harley, her grandson, or whether the claims of the pirate's
daughter to social equality with the descendants of Salem
privateersmen were to be negatived, she promptly replied that
questions of social consideration rested with her alone. Mr. Bowdoin
accepted the decision with no surprise; what pretty Miss Mercy said is
unknown; but Jamie actually treated his employers for some weeks with
an exaggerated deference in which there was almost a touch of sarcasm.

"Poor old Jamie!" said Mr. James to his father. "How he adores the
child!"

McMurtagh was not five years older than himself,--he may have been
forty at this period; but his little rosy face was prematurely
wrinkled, and his gait was always so odd, and he had no young friends
about town, nor seemed ever to have had any youth.

Meantime Miss Mercy went on with her piano. She was graduated from
the high school the next year, and then had nothing else to do. The
same year, Master Harley went to college. And there occurred a thing
which gave rise to much secret consultation among the Bowdoins.

For every morning, upon the appearance of Mr. James, or more usually
upon the later advent of Mr. Bowdoin, old Jamie would get off his high
stool, where for many minutes he had made no entries upon the books
(indeed, the entries already were growing fewer every year), and come
with visible determination into the main office. There, upon being
asked by Mr. Bowdoin what he wanted, he would portentously clear his
throat; then, on being asked a second time, he would suddenly fall to
poking the fire, and finally respond with some business question, an
obvious and laborious invention of the moment.

"It's e