"'Yes, an' he's livin' within his means--that's the first mile-stone in the road to success,' I says. 'I'm goin' to buy him a thousand acres o' land, an' one o' these days he'll own it an' as much more. You wait. He'll have a hundred men in his employ, an'

flocks an' herds an' a market of his own in New York. He'll control prices in this county, an' they're goin' down. He'll be a force in the State.'

"They were all sitting up. The faces o' the Lady Henshaw an' her daughter turned red.

"'I'm very glad to hear it, I'm sure,' said her Ladyship.

"'I wasn't so sure o' that as she was, an' there, for me, was the milk in the cocoanut. I was joyful.

"'Why, it's perfectly lovely!' says Lizzie, as she fetched her pretty hands together in her lap.

"'Yes, you want to cultivate Dan,' I says. 'He's a man to be reckoned with.'

"'Oh, indeed!' says her Ladyship.

"'Yes, indeed!' I says, 'an' the girls are all after him.'

"I just guessed that. I knew it was unscrupulous, but livin' here in this atmosphere does affect the morals even of a lawyer. Lizzie grew red in the face.

"'He could marry one o' the Four Hundred if he wanted to,' I says.

'The other evening he was seen in the big red tourin'-car o' the Van Alstynes. What do you think o' that?'

"Now that was true, but the chauffeur had been a college friend o'

Dan's, an' I didn't mention that.

"Lizzie had a dreamy smile in her face.

"'Why, it's wonderful!' says she. 'I didn't know he'd improved so.'

"'I hear that his mother is doing her own work,' says the Lady Henshaw, with a forced smile.

"'Yes, think of it,' I says. 'The woman is earning her daily bread--actually helpin' her husband. Did you ever hear o' such a thing! I'll have to scratch 'em off my list. It's too uncommon.

It ain't respectable.'

"Her Ladyship began to suspect me an' retreated with her chin in the air. She'd had enough.

"I thought that would do an' drew out o' the game. Lizzie looked confident. She seemed to have something up her sleeve besides that lovely arm o' hers.

"I went home, an' two days later Sam looked me up again. Then the secret came out o' the bag. He'd heard that I had some money in the savings-banks over at Bridgeport payin' me only three and a half per cent., an' he wanted to borrow it an' pay me six per cent.

His generosity surprised me. It was not like Sam.

"'What's the matter with you?' I asked. 'Is it possible that your profits have all gone into gasoline an' rubber an' silk an'

education an' hardwood finish an' human fat?'

"'Well, it costs so much to live,' he says, 'an' the wholesalers have kept liftin' the prices on me. Now there's the meat trust--their prices are up thirty-five per cent.'

"'Of course,' I says, 'the directors have to have their luxuries.

You taxed us for yer new house an' yer automobile an' yer daughter's education, an' they're taxin' you for their steam-yachts an' private cars an' racin' stables. You can't expect to do all the taxin'. The wholesalers learnt about the profits that you an'

others like ye was makin', an' they concluded that they needed a part of 'em. Of course they had to have their luxuries, an'

they're taxin' you--they couldn't afford to have 'em if they didn't. Don't complain.'

"'I'll come out all right,' he says. 'I'm goin' to raise my whole schedule fifteen per cent.'

"'The people won't stand it--they can't,' says I. 'You'll be drownin' the miller. They'll leave you.'

"'It won't do 'em any good,' says he. 'Bill an' Eph will make their prices agree with mine.'

"'Folks will go back to the land, as I have,' says I.

"'They don't know enough,' says Sam. 'Farmin' is a lost art here in the East. You take my word for it--they'll pay our prices--they'll have to--an' the rich folks, they don't worry about prices. I pay a commission to every steward an' butler in this neighborhood.'

"'I won't help you,' says I. 'It's wicked. You ought to have saved your money.'

"'In a year from now I'll have money to burn,' he says. 'For one thing, my daughter's education is finished, an' that has cost heavy.'

"'How much would it cost to unlearn it?' I asked. 'That's goin' to cost more than it did to get it, I'm 'fraid. In my opinion the first thing to do with her is to uneducate her.'

"That was like a red-hot iron to Sam. It kind o' het him up.

"'Why, sir, you don't appreciate her,' says he. 'That girl is far above us all here in Pointview. She's a queen.'

"'Well, Sam,' I says, 'if there's anything you don't need just now it's a queen. If I were you I wouldn't graft that kind o' fruit on the grocery-tree. Hams an' coronets don't flourish on the same bush. They have a different kind of a bouquet. They don't harmonize. Then, Sam, what do you want of a girl that's far above ye? Is it any comfort to you to be despised in your own home?'

"'Mr. Potter, I haven't educated her for my own home or for this community, but for higher things,' says Sam.

"'You hairy old a.s.s! The first you know,' I says, 'they'll have your skin off an' layin' on the front piaz' for a door-mat.'

"Sam started for the open air. I hated to be ha'sh with him, but he needed some education himself, an' it took a beetle an' wedge to open his mind for it. He lifted his chin so high that the fat swelled out on the back of his neck an' unb.u.t.toned his collar.

Then he turned an' said: 'My daughter is too good for this town, an' I don't intend that she shall stay here. She has been asked to marry a man o' fortune in the old country.'

"'So I surmised, an' I suppose you find that the price o' husbands has gone up,' I says.

"Sam didn't answer me.

"'They want you to settle some money on the girl--don't they?' I asked.

"'My wife says it's the custom in the old country,' says Sam.

"'Suppose he ain't worth the price?'

"'They say he's a splendid fellow,' says Sam.

"'You let me investigate him,' I says, 'an' if he's really worth the price I'll help ye to pay it.'

"Sam said that was fair, an' thanked me for the offer, an' gave me the young man's address. He was a Russian by the name of Alexander Rolanoff, an' Sam insisted that he belonged to a very old family of large means an' n.o.ble blood, an' said that the young man would be in Pointview that summer. I wrote to the mayor of the city in which he was said to live, but got no answer.

"Alexander came. He was a costly an' beautiful young man, about thirty years old, with red cheeks an' curly hair an' polished finger-nails, an' wrote poetry. Sometimes ye meet a man that excites yer worst suspicions. Your right hand no sooner lets go o'

his than it slides down into your pocket to see if anything has happened; or maybe you take the arm o' yer wife or yer daughter an'

walk away. Aleck leaned a little in both directions. But, sir, Sam didn't care to know my opinion of him. Never said another word to me on the subject, but came again to ask about the money.