ng him with a precise
familiar deference, directed him to a select suite with a private
parlour, a sombre chamber of red plush, dark walls and thickly draped,
long windows. There he sat grimly contemplating a distasteful prospect.
He knew the casual, ill-prepared dinners presided over by Essie, the
covertly insolent man servant; and an overpowering reluctance came upon
him to sit again at her table. But the confusion of the hotel ordinary
repelled him too: he had seen in passing a number of men who would
endeavour to force his opinion on the specie situation or speculation in
canals. He rose and pulled sharply at the tasselled bell rope, ordering
grilled pheasant, anchovy toast and champagne to be served where he sat.

Jasper Penny ate slowly, partly distracted by the market reports in the
_U.S. Gazette_. Ninety-two and a half had been offered for Schuylkill
Navigation, only fifteen for the West Chester Railroad, but Philadelphia
and Trenton had gone to ninety-eight; while a three and a half dividend
had been declared on the French Town Turnpike and Railway Company. He
was annoyed afresh by the persistent refusal of the Government to award
the mail to the Reading Steam System. His thoughts returned to Eunice,
his daughter, the coming scene--it would at least be that--with Essie
Scofield.

It was but a short distance from the hotel to where Essie lived, over
Fourth Street to Cherry; and almost immediately he turned by the three
story brick dwelling at the corner and was at her door. The servant, in
an untidy white jacket, stood stupidly blocking the narrow hall, until
Jasper Penny with an angry impatience waved him aside. There were other
silk hats and coats, and a woman's fringed wrap, on the stand where he
left his stick and outer garments; and from above came a peal of mingled
laughter. The presence of others, now, was singularly inopportune; it
would be no good waiting for their departure--here such gatherings
almost invariably drew out until dawn; and he abruptly decided that,
after a short interval, he would give Essie to understand that he wished
to talk to her privately.

A young woman with a chalk-white face and oleaginous bandeaux of dead
black hair, in scarlet and green tartan over an extravagant crinoline,
was seated on a sofa between two men, each with an arm about her waist
and wine glasses elevated in their free hands. Essie was facing them
from a circular floor hassock, in a blue satin, informal robe ov