ok a key out of a glass case on the wall of the barn and slipped
it into his pocket.

"No--that is, not to stay."

"Quite some adventure, eh?"

The lad shot a bright glance toward him.

"Yes."

"Well, well! Count yourself lucky, youngster, that you've had a good
home and a good mother up to now; and bless your stars, too, that
since you are going to start branching out you're coming to a place
like Surfside rather'n somewhere else."

His voice was gentle and his misty eyes mistier than ever.

Striding ahead he crossed the lawn, unlocked a low building, and
mounting the stairs, stopped before a door in the hall above. With a
turn of the key it swung open, disclosing a small sheathed room
containing a white iron bed, bureau, table, chairs, and bookshelves.

"Think this will suit your Highness?" grinned he.

"It's--it's corking!" stammered Walter, almost too delighted to reply.

"'Tain't bad," admitted Jerry, strolling over to one of the windows
that faced the sea and looking out. "Mr. Crowninshield makes it a rule
never to stow away other folks where he wouldn't be stowed himself. It
isn't a bad principle, either. You'll have a couple of the chauffeurs
for company." With his thumb he motioned to other rooms flanking the
narrow hall. "They may josh you some at first. That's part of starting
out in the world. Keep a civil tongue in your head and if you don't
mind 'em they'll soon quit. If they don't it's up to you to find the
way to get on with 'em. Half of life is learning to shy round the
corners of the folks about you. And old Tim, who used to be gardener
for Mr. Crowninshield's father and has been in the family 'most half a
century, bides here, too. A rare soul, Tim. You'll like him. Everybody
does. Simple as a child, he is, and so gentle that it well-nigh breaks
his heart to kill a potato bug. You can count on Tim standing your
friend no matter what the rest may do, so cheer up."

"And the dogs?"

"Oh, the kennels, you mean? They're close by where you'll get the full
benefit of the pups' barking in the early morning," said Jerry, with a
twinkle. "'Twill give you a pleasant feeling to be certain your
charges are alive. Most often, though, they do no yammering until
about six, and goodness knows all Christians ought to be up at that
hour. You'll find the dogs fitted out comfortable as the rest of us.
They've a fine enclosure to stay in when they want to be out of doors;
a big airy room if it's better to ha