se! I haven't heard from him since my first day in New York."

"I mean the other Mr. Morehouse, his brother--your banker. Henry wired to
him from New York. And he was writing you, to say, if you hadn't got
anybody who knew the ropes to see you through your excursions, you
couldn't do better than let Hilliard of Lucky Star be your pilot--kind of
courier, you know. Both the Morehouses vouch for me, though it's Henry
who's my friend. All strangers who come to have a look around California
take a Californian to show them the sights. If you haven't got Mr.
Morehouse's letter, it must be waiting for you. I reckon it ought to have
arrived last night or this morning. And if you find he recommends me as a
trustworthy man, will you think the plan over, before you say no?"

"You take my breath away! But--ye-es. I'll think it over. I suppose one
really _can_ do things in America one wouldn't do _anywhere_ else?"

"That's why there's so much emigration," replied Nick, gravely.

"And I should be studying California through you, I suppose? I begin to
see that you're a typical Californian."

"No," Nick contradicted her. "You mustn't get hold of that impression. It
wouldn't be playing the game for me to let you. The typical Californian's
a very different man: a grand chap, and I reckon more like the sort you're
used to."

Angela smiled. "Describe him."

"Well, I'm not much at description. You'll meet the kind I mean when you
get to San Francisco, if you don't before. The two Morehouses are the
right sort; and lots of others. John Falconer's one of the best. Have you
ever heard of him?"

"Yes," said Angela. "I remember his name. My--friends of mine have spoken
of him, though he was younger, and made his fame later."

"I should like you to come across him," said Nick, full of enthusiasm for
the man he admired, and devoid of small jealousy. "Falconer was one of the
grandest lawyers California ever had; and in a way he made himself, though
he came of the best blood we've got." (Nick would not have dreamed of
mentioning that his own blood was as good. He, like most men of the West,
thought more of his horses' pedigree than his own, and he would as readily
have boasted of his handsome looks as of his father's people--the people
who had disowned that father, and sent him to starve. But now he was
boasting of and for California. That was legitimate.) "Falconer's the
wisest and most far-seeing politician we have," he went on, "and deserv