fter supper Mr. Larabee and Dick's father chatted in the library. The
talk ranged from business matters to subjects in Dankville, where Mr.
Hamilton knew several families.

"Perhaps you'd like to take a look about the house," suggested Mr.
Hamilton, after a pause "I've been putting in some improvements lately,
and enlarging the conservatory. Dick will show you around."

"What? Tramp through the house just to look at it? I don't believe in
doing that," replied Uncle Ezra, firmly. "Things wear out fast enough as
it is without using them when it isn't necessary. No use walking on the
best carpets when there isn't a need for it. Besides, I don't believe in
spending money on a house when it's good enough. Your place was very
nice without adding to it. Think of the money you could have saved."

"But I didn't have to save it," responded Mr. Hamilton. "I made lots
this year, and I thought it was a wise thing to put it into something
permanent. I have increased the value of my house."

"Much better put it in the bank," advised Uncle Ezra, with a
disapproving sniff.

Mr. Hamilton and Dick tried to entertain their visitor, but it was hard
work. He cared nothing for the things they were interested in, and was
somewhat inclined to dictate what Mr. Hamilton should do with his money.

"You burn too many lights," he said, noting that several incandescents
were aglow in the library where they sat. "One would do as well," and he
turned out all but one.

"I contract for it by the year," said Mr. Hamilton. "It doesn't cost me
any more to burn five lamps than it does one."

"But the lamps wear out," was Uncle Ezra's answer. "And speaking of
things wearing out reminds me. We got a letter the other day and it
almost made Samanthy sick. She hasn't got over the shock of it yet."

"What was it?" asked Dick.

"Why, it was from some crazy society in New York, wanting us to take
twenty-five 'fresh-air children,' the letter said, to board at our house
for a few weeks. Said they heard we had a big farmhouse and could
accommodate 'em."

"Are you going to take them?" inquired Mr. Hamilton. "I think your house
would be just the place for them. You have lots of room, and you can't
eat all that you raise on the farm. It would do the poor things good."

"Are--we--going--to--take--them?" repeated Mr. Larabee. "I'm surprised
at you, Mortimer Hamilton. The idea of taking twenty-five street-arabs
in our house! Why, the very idea of it made Samanth