n of the wall, bearing many volumes, worn, dusty,
and eaten with age.

Among them were books of the English peerage, records of titled
families, reports of the Court of Chancery in hundreds of testamentary
cases, scrap-books full of newspaper clippings concerning American
claimants to British fortunes, lists of family estates in Great Britain
and Ireland, and many other works bearing upon heraldry, the laws of
inheritance, and similar subjects.

Upon the walls hung charts showing the genealogical trees of illustrious
families, tracing the descent of Washington, of Queen Victoria, and of
other important personages. There was no covering on the floor except
that which had accumulated by reason of the absence of broom and mop. A
couple of tables, a few dilapidated chairs, a pitcher and a basin, were
about all the furniture that the room contained.

Being elderly and huge, it required far more time for Mr. Jayres to make
the ascent to his office than for Bootsey. Having this fact in mind,
Bootsey sat down upon the first step of the first flight, intending to
wait until Mr. Jayres had at least reached the final flight before he
started up at all. He failed to communicate his resolution, however, and
when Mr. Jayres turned about upon the third floor, hearing no footsteps
behind him, he stopped. He frowned. He clinched his fist and swore.

"There'll be murder on me," he said, "I know there will, if that Boy
don't do better! Now, where the pestering dickens can he be?"

Mr. Jayres leaned over the bannister and started to call. "Boo--" he
roared, and then checked himself. "Drat such a name as that," he said.
"Who ever heard of a civilized Boy being called Bootsey? What'll people
think to see a man of my age hanging over a bannister yelling 'Bootsey'!
No, I must go down and hunt him up. I wonder why I keep that Boy? I
wonder why I do it?"

Mr. Jayres turned, and with a heavy sigh he began to descend to the
street. On the second landing he met Bootsey smoking a cigarette and
whistling. Mr. Jayres did not fly into a passion. He did not grow red
and frantic. He just took Bootsey by the hand and led him, step by step,
up the rest of the way to the office. He drew him inside, shut the door,
and led him over to his own table. Then he sat down, still holding
Bootsey's hand, and waited until he had caught his breath.

"Now, then," he said, at last.

"Yez'r," said Bootsey.

"You're a miserable little rogue!" said Mr. Jayres.