inued the one he always gave
me."

Garry winked sententiously, and remarked in reply that he might be
making the distinguished money-bags an allowance himself one of these
fine days, and he could if some of the things he was counting on came
out top side up, but Corinne's opinions did not change either toward
Jack or her stepfather.

CHAPTER XIX

When the pain in Jack's heart over Ruth became unbearable, there was
always one refuge left--one balm which never failed to soothe, and that
was Peter.

For though he held himself in readiness for her call, being seldom
absent lest she might need his services, their constrained intercourse
brought with it more pain than pleasure. It was then that he longed for
the comfort which only his dear mentor could give.

On these occasions Mrs. McGuffey would take the lace cover off Miss
Felicia's bureau, as a matter of precaution, provided that lady was
away and the room available, and roll in a big tub for the young
gentleman--"who do be washin' hisself all the time and he that sloppy
that I'm afeared everything will be spi'lt for the mistress," and Jack
would slip out of his working clothes (he would often come away in his
flannel shirt and loose tie, especially when he was late in paying off)
and shed his heavy boots with the red clay of Jersey still clinging to
their soles, and get into his white linen and black clothes and dress
shoes, and then the two chums would lock arms and saunter up Fifth
Avenue to dine either at one of Peter's clubs or at some house where
he and that "handsome young ward of yours, Mr. Grayson--do bring him
again," were so welcome.

If Miss Felicia was in town and her room in use, there was never any
change in the programme, Mrs. McGuffey rising to the emergency and
discovering another and somewhat larger apartment in the next house
but two--"for one of the finest gintlemen ye ever saw and that quiet,"
etc.--into which Jack would move and which the good woman would insist
on taking full charge of herself.

It was on one of these blessed and always welcome nights, after the
two had been dining at "a little crack in the wall," as Peter called a
near-by Italian restaurant, that he and Jack stopped to speak to Isaac
Cohen whom they found closing his shop for the night. Cohen invited
them in and Jack, after following the little tailor through the
deserted shop--all the work people had left--found himself, to his great
surprise, in a small room at