connecting vein of ore on
paper, was to be expected by any one at all familiar with his uncle's
methods.

"Thank you, Uncle Arthur," he answered simply, "but there's nothing
decided yet about the Morfordsburg work. I heard a bit of news coming
down on the train this morning that may cause Mr. MacFarlane to look
upon the proposed work more favorably, but that is for him to say. As
to my own property, when I am there again, if I do go,--I will look
over the ground myself and have Mr. MacFarlane go with me and then I can
decide."

Breen knitted his brows. It was not the answer he had expected. In fact,
he was very much astonished both at the reply and the way in which it
was given. He began to be sorry he had raised the question at all. He
would gladly have helped Jack in getting a good price for his property,
provided it did not interfere with his own plans, but to educate him up
to the position of an obstructionist, was quite another matter.

"Well, think it over," he replied in a tone that was meant to show his
entire indifference to the whole affair,--"and some time when you are in
town drop in again. And now tell me about Ruth, as we must call her,
I suppose. Your aunt just missed her at the Cosgroves' the other day."
Then came a short disquisition on Garry and Corinne and their life at
Elm Crest, followed by an embarrassing pause, during which the head of
the house of Breen lowered the flow line on a black bottle which he took
from a closet behind his desk,--"his digestion being a little out that
morning," he explained. And so with renewed thanks for the interest he
had taken in his behalf, and with his whole mind now concentrated on
Peter and the unspeakable happiness in store for him when he poured
into the old gentleman's willing and astonished ears the details of the
interview, Mr. John Breen, Henry MacFarlane's Chief Assistant in Charge
of Outside Work, bowed himself out.

He had not long to wait.

Indeed, that delightful old gentleman had but a short time before called
to a second old gentleman, a more or less delightful fossil in black wig
and spectacles, to take his place at the teller's window, and the first
delightful old gentleman was at the precise moment standing on the top
step of the Exeter, overlooking the street, where he had caught sight of
Jack wending his way toward him.

"Jack! JACK!" Peter cried, waving his hand at the boy.

"Oh! that's you, Uncle Peter, is it? Shall I--?"

"No, Jack,