The elderly ogler, meantime, very red as to face and neck, looked out of the window nearest him. The girls, who had been consulting their lists, rose suddenly while he was so occupied, and with several other passengers left the car. The moment he missed them he started to his feet, but as he moved he saw a card fallen on the matting, and stooping picked it up. It was one of Mrs. Lawton's visiting cards, and on its back was scribbled yards and pounds of various articles, evidently a shopping list. As he turned it over and read "Mrs. John W. Lawton," with a former address crossed off and "Woodsedge" written beneath it, he exclaimed: "The devil! Lawton's girls grown up, and I didn't recognize them? By thunder! I must find them again! Hi! conductor!" He plunged toward the platform, brushing against open papers and stepping on toes without apology, and, dropping off the car, he returned to the corner of the street where the girls had disappeared. "Lawton's girls!" he muttered. "Woodsedge--where the devil is Woodsedge, I'd like to know! But that blondest girl's a beauty, and no mistake! The dark one glared at me like a cat. Let's see, now, what did they call those youngsters when they were over in the Oranges?" And hunting through his wicked old memory for the names he had forgotten, he placed himself on guard in front of a certain great store, on the chance of seeing Sybil and Dorothy come out. A most undignified occupation for Mr. William Henry Bulkley, aged fifty-five years, worth some eight hundred thousand dollars, but rated as a millionaire. Yet there were certain people in the city who would have expressed no surprise had they seen him so engaged, since they knew the occupation was neither new nor strange to him. He had long retired from business, and now relied principally upon the devil to provide work for his idle hands to do, and it is but fair to admit that he was seldom without a job. That he was looked upon and spoken of as a millionaire filled him with pride unspeakable. There is not a doubt that from the two hundred thousand dollars with which the world mistakenly accredited him he drew greater satisfaction and delight than from the eight hundred thousand dollars he really owned. So much pleasanter it is to be over, rather than correctly, estimated. A big man was Mr. Bulkley--whose employees used to call "Old Hulkey"--a heavily breathing man, who had lost his waist-line years ago, to his great chagrin. He had long yellow teeth, his own beyond a doubt, since no dentist on earth would have risked his reputation by making such an atrocious set. His cheeks sagged, and were of a brick red, netted over with tiny purplish veins. He had pale, impudent blue eyes, and his occasional trick of leering from under half-drooped lids made them offensively ugly. He dressed in the fashion of--to-morrow. No novelty escaped him, and his jewelry was really the best thing about him, since it was genuine and modest.