gazed affectionately at him (so the
three observers thought). Some conversation then took place between
them, during which the old gentleman repeatedly pressed the young man's
hand, and sometimes reached up and softly patted him on the shoulder.
The young man appeared to receive the words and caresses of the old
gentleman with a sullen indifference. Several times he pettishly drew
his hand away, and at last shook his head fiercely, folded his arms, and
seemed (though the spectators could only conjecture that) to stamp the
floor with his foot. At this, the old gentleman bowed his head in his
hands. The young man held his defiant attitude unmoved, until, glancing
out of the window, he saw for the first time that he was watched. "With
a jerk, he pulled down the curtain, and cut off a scene which the three
observers had begun to find profoundly interesting.

"Well," said Marcus Wilkeson, "though I have given up making calls as a
business, I shall certainly take the New-Year's privilege of dropping in
on the venerable unknown over the way."

"Two things are plain," said Fayette Overtop. "One is, that the pale,
rascally looking young man is the old man's son. Now, I don't suppose
either of you will dispute that?" (Overtop paused a moment to receive
and dispose of objections, but none were made.) "The other is, that the
old fellow is immensely rich--worth a million or two, maybe. Perhaps you
_would_ like to argue that point." Overtop smiled, as if nothing would
give him greater pleasure than to annihilate a few dozen opinions to
the contrary.

"To save argument, as usual, we admit everything," responded Wilkeson.
"But, pray condescend to tell us how you know this fine old boy to be
superlatively rich."

Overtop smiled upon his ignorant friends, and answered:

"Because he wears a white cravat. The man isn't a clergyman, is he? Do
clergymen smoke pipes? He isn't a Quaker, is he? Do Quakers, or those of
them who indulge in white cravats, wear their coat collars turned down?
Consult your own experience, now, and tell me whether you ever saw
anybody but a very rich man (with the exceptions already stated) wearing
a white cravat. I leave it to your candor."

Wilkeson and Maltboy nodded their heads, as if stricken dumb with
conviction.

Overtop, gratified with this ready acquiescence, modestly went on to say
that he would not undertake to explain the phenomenon; that task he left
to some more philosophical mind. He contented