"True as gospel, every word of it. But it isn't too late to mend. That's an old proverb and a true one. It is quite in the line of possibility that I should get back to the position from which I fell." "Perhaps so, but I'm not very sanguine of it." "With your help nothing is impossible." "You must not count upon that," said Stephen Ray stiffly. "It is a good while since we parted company. I don't myself care to renew the acquaintance." "But I do," rejoined Bolton with emphasis. "I have very little time at my disposal," said Ray, pulling out an elegant gold watch and consulting it. "I think it may be well for you to spare me a little time," went on Bolton quietly. There was something in his tone that sounded like a threat, and Stephen Ray could not wholly conceal his uneasiness. "Well," he said, "I will give you ten minutes. Get through your business, whatever it is, as soon as possible." "Hadn't you better send your son away?" suggested Bolton significantly. "Why should I?" But on second thoughts Mr. Ray concluded to act on the hint, and turning to Clarence he said: "Clarence, you might take another spin on your wheel." This did not suit Clarence at all. His curiosity had been excited by his father's change of front toward the objectionable stranger, and he counted on finding out the reason for it. "Why can't I stay?" he grumbled. "This man and I have a little private business together." He spoke firmly, and Clarence knew by his tone that further remonstrance would be unavailing, so with a dissatisfied look he left the room. "Now, sir," said Stephen Ray sharply, when his son had taken his departure. "I gave you ten minutes. You will need to be expeditious." "It will take more than ten minutes--what I have to say," returned Bolton coolly. "I am rather tired of standing, so you will excuse me if I sit down." As he spoke he dropped into a comfortable chair three feet from his host. "Confound his impudence!" thought Ray, much annoyed. "I think we had better go indoors," he said. He did not care to be seen in an apparently friendly conversation with a man like Bolton. "I think myself it may be better." He followed Ray into a room which the latter used as a library and office, and took care to select a comfortable seat. "Really, Stephen Ray," he remarked, glancing around him at the well-filled bookcases, the handsome pictures, and the luxurious furniture, "you are very nicely fixed here." "I suppose you didn't come to tell me that," responded Stephen Ray with a sneer. "Well, not altogether, but it is as well to refer to it. I have known you a good many years. I remember when you first came here to visit your uncle in the character of a poor relation. I don't believe you had a hundred dollars to your name." Such references grated upon the purse-proud aristocrat, who tried to persuade himself that he had always been as prosperous as at present. "There is no occasion for your reminiscences," he said stiffly.