rriageable age and millions. Full, as ever, of practical
suggestions, Mr. Crewe proposed to telephone to Ripton and put an
advertisement in the Record, which--as he happened to know--went to press
the next day. Victoria would not trust to the telephone, whereupon Mr.
Crewe offered to drive down with her.

"You'd bore me, Humphrey," said she, as she climbed into her runabout
with the father and grandfather of the absentee. Mr. Crewe laughed as she
drove away. He had a chemical quality of turning invidious remarks into
compliments, and he took this one as Victoria's manner of saying that she
did not wish to disturb so important a man.

Arriving in the hot main street of Ripton, her sharp eyes descried the
Record sign over the drug store, and in an astonishingly short time she
was in the empty office. Mr. Pardriff was at dinner. She sat down in the
editorial chair and read a great deal of uninteresting matter, but at
last found something on the floor (where the wind had blown it) which
made her laugh. It was the account of Austen Vane's difficulty with Mr.
Blodgett. Victoria did not know Austen, but she knew that the Honourable
Hilary had a son of that name who had gone West, and this was what
tickled her. She thrust the clipping in the pocket of her linen coat just
as Mr. Pardriff came in.

Her conversation with the editor of the Record proved so entertaining
that she forgot all about the clipping until she had reached Fairview,
and had satisfied a somewhat imperious appetite by a combination of lunch
and afternoon tea. Fairview was the "summer place" of Mr. Augustus P.
Flint, her father, on a shelf of the hills in the town of Tunbridge,
equidistant from Leith and Ripton: and Mr. Flint was the president of the
Imperial Railroad, no less.

Yes, he had once been plain Gus Flint, many years ago, when he used to
fetch the pocket-handkerchiefs of Mr. Isaac D. Worthington of Brampton,
and he was still "Gus" to his friends. Mr. Flint's had been the brain
which had largely conceived and executed the consolidation of
principalities of which the Imperial Railroad was the result and, as
surely as tough metal prevails, Mr. Flint, after many other trials and
errors of weaker stuff, had been elected to the place for which he was so
supremely fitted. We are so used in America to these tremendous rises
that a paragraph will suffice to place Mr. Flint in his Aladdin's palace.
To do him justice, he cared not a fig for the palace, and he