would make provision that this "undeveloped affair"--so he termed
it--with her niece should not miscarry for want of caution. He intended
while waiting for Alice to grow up--a feat which her aunt was always
deploring as an impossibility except in a physical sense--to make
himself necessary in this young life. Thus far he had been successful;
her weekly girlish letters conclusively proved it.

While waiting for the milk to cease its vigorous flow, he was conscious
of reviewing his attitude towards the "undeveloped affair" in some such
train of thought, and finding in it nothing to condemn, rather to
commend, in fact; for not for the fractional part of a second did he
allow a thought of it to divert his mind from the constant end in view:
the making for himself a recognized place of power in the financial
world of affairs. He knew that Mr. Van Ostend was aware of this
steadfast pursuit of a purpose. He knew, moreover, that the fact that
the great financier was taking him into his New York office as treasurer
of the Flamsted Quarries, was a tacit recognition not only of his six
years' apprenticeship in some of the largest banking houses in Europe,
but of his ability to acquire that special power which was his goal. In
the near future he would handle and practically control millions both in
receipt and disbursement. Many of the contracts, already signed, were to
be filled within the next three years--the sound of the milking suddenly
ceased.

"My, how my wrists ache! See, Tave, the pail is almost full; there must
be twelve or fourteen quarts in all."

She began to rub her wrists vigorously. Octavius muttered: "I told you
so. You might have known you couldn't milk steady like that without
getting all tuckered out."

Champney stepped forward quickly. "Right you are, Tave, every time. How
are you, dear old chap?" He held out his hand.

"Champ--Champney--why--" he stammered rather than spoke.

"It's I, Tave; the same old sixpence. Have I changed so much?"

"Changed? I should say so! I thought--I thought--" he was wringing
Champney's hand; some strange emotion worked in his features--"I thought
for a second it was Mr. Louis come to life." He turned to Aileen who had
sprung from her stool. "Aileen, this is Mr. Champney Googe; you've
forgotten him, I dare say, in all these years."

The rich red mantled her cheeks; the gray eyes smiled up frankly into
his; she held out her hand. "Oh, no, I've not forgotten Mr. Champney
Go