don't try to run yet, Jerry."

"Oh, I say--"

"Just keep your eyes open. You'll see." And then quietly, "You know
Phil Laidlaw, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, fine chap."

"I think it wouldn't harm you to know Phil better. He isn't brilliant,
but he's steady, sure, reliable. And he _stands on his feet_, Jerry,
on both of them."

Jerry's comment to me in telling this part of the conversation was
amusing. "Phil Laidlaw _is_ a good fellow and all that," he muttered,
"but hang it all, Roger, you can't stomach having another man's
virtues thrust down your throat!"

My own comment may be interesting.

"I don't wonder that she cares for him," I said. "A good match, I
should say."

"H--m," replied Jerry. "I can't seem to think of Una married to
anybody. She's so much occupied--"

"But she _will_ be married some day, my boy. Charity begins at home."

She had used her woman's weapons loyally, at least. I think her
comments on Laidlaw must have made Jerry silent for awhile and he told
me little of the conversation that followed. But they must have
"cleared up" all the things that stood between them. I think the
subsequent conversation must have been largely pleasant and personal,
for Jerry spoke of the wonderful weather and how Una admired the view
they had of the great river from Hoboken with the lights of the towers
of Manhattan, like the sparks of some mighty fire, hanging midway in
the air.

I was silent when he had concluded. Evidently he wanted me to say
something, for he looked at me once or twice as he was refilling his
pipe. But I was thinking deeply.

"She's a wonder," he said after awhile. "You know the committee of
ladies that's supposed to manage things down town have all gone away,
leaving the whole responsibility to Una--the plans, specifications,
business arrangements and all."

"As Marcia suggested," I replied, "they're sure that matters are in
good hands."

"Yes, she's so sane. That's it. You know when we got to town I took
dinner with the family down in Washington Square. Jolly lot of girls,
like stair-steps, from eight to eighteen, but not a bit like Una,
Roger, and the mother, placid, serene, intelligent with a dignity that
seems to go with the house and neighborhood--a dear old lady, not so
terribly old, either, and astonishingly well informed--Fine old house,
refreshing, cool, mellow with age and decent associations; none of
your Louis Quinze business there. I always wondered where Una got her
p