"That's good of you, Tom," said Schuyler, smiling a little. "But a bachelor around a sick room is of about as much use as an elephant at a pink tea.... No, Kate and I have talked it all over, and, under the conditions, she has decided to stay at home. It'll be mighty hard, though--mighty hard.... It must be nearly time to leave." Blake looked at his watch. "Nine fifty," he said. "What time does the train go?" Schuyler did not answer; for just then there entered the room a tall, clean-cut young fellow of thirty, dressed with quiet immaculacy. It was Parks, John Schuyler's secretary. To him Schuyler turned. "Is everything ready, Parks?" he asked. "Everything," was the reply. "And the car is waiting." "Mrs. Schuyler?" "Is in the hall." "You have the documents that we selected?" "Here, sir." Parks touched with the fingers of his right hand the little satchel of black seal that he carried beneath his left arm. "How much time have we?" "We should leave within a very few minutes now." "Very well. We'll be right there." As Parks left the room, Blake turned to his friend. "Jack," he exclaimed, "it makes me sore every time I look at you. Why in thunder can't I get in once in a while? Nothing would suit me better than to go over and buy the king a glass of half and half and mix around with the diplomats and settle the affairs of nations. But they wouldn't let me send cucumber seeds to the mattress-faced constituency of Skaneateles county if I should offer to pay for the job. I've got everything I don't want--except the measles--and everything I do want, I can't get. I want a home. What have I? A box stall with nobody in it but a man to curry me; and he's curried me so often that he's lost all respect for me. I want to stop being merely ornamental and become useful; but when I say so, everyone hands me the jocose and jibing jeer and proceeds to lock up anything that seems to have any relation whatsoever to industry, commerce, or utility of any kind. And the best I can get is the festive roof garden, the broad speed-way, and the bounding wave. I wish I were running this universe. I ain't mentioning no names, but there's a certain svelte party on my left, whose initials are J. S., who wouldn't have a monopoly on all the good things in this world." Schuyler, filling his cigar case from a silver humidor on the sideboard, laughed. "There's nothing the matter with you, Tom," he said, assuringly, "except that you have too much time and too much money. Stop your kicking." Blake grinned.