“No, sir; I never heard it before.” “She has evidently heard of you. It is now ten o’clock. At half past ten you may start for the Windsor Hotel. If you arrive there before eleven, you may wait till the hour, and then report at the room indicated.” “Yes, sir.” Paul arrived at the Windsor Hotel at ten minutes before the hour. This magnificent hostelry is situated on Fifth Avenue, and occupies the entire block between Forty Sixth and Forty Seventh Streets. It is built of brick, and has an air of quiet elegance which makes it a favorite with ladies and others who like to be spared the noise and bustle which attend other prominent hotels in the city. On the corner just above stands the luxurious home of Jay Gould, the railroad king. A few blocks above is the great Catholic Cathedral, destined one day to rank among the famous churches of the world. Still further up, on the opposite side, are the stately houses occupied by the Vanderbilt family. These things, however, did not occur to Paul, for he was too familiar with the leading buildings on the avenue to give them a special thought, further than to reflect, “The men who occupy these fine houses were once poor boys--many of them. I wonder whether it will ever be my fortune to live as handsomely!” It was only a thought, not seriously entertained. Paul wanted to rise, but an active, healthy boy seldom thinks of luxury, or craves it. That comes later, after he has attained manhood. Paul entered the hotel, and, going up to the office, expressed a wish to see Mrs. Louisa Holbrook. “Were you sent for?” asked the clerk. “Yes, sir.” “Then you may go up at once. Here”--to a bell boy--“show this boy up to No. 75, Mrs. Holbrook’s room.” Though the room was only on the second floor, Paul followed the bell boy into the elevator. At the second landing he got out, and followed the hotel attendant to the door of a room fronting on the avenue. The bell boy knocked, and a voice said, “Come in!” “It is a telegraph boy, ma’am,” said the servant. “He may come in, and you can go.” Paul entered the room--a large and handsome one--and found himself in presence of a lady not much over thirty years of age, with a pleasant face and manner. “You are Number 91?” she asked. “Yes, ma’am.” “I suppose you are surprised that I should have sent specially for you,” the lady said, with a smile. “I wondered how you came to hear of me,” said Paul. “That is easily explained. I am a cousin of Mr. Cunningham.” Paul’s face brightened. It was pleasant to serve any one connected with a family from which he had received so much kindness. “That explains it,” he said; “all the family have treated me very kindly.” “I assure you that you stand very high in their estimation,” said Mrs. Holbrook, smiling once more. “My young cousin Jennie was here yesterday, and on learning the nature of my business urged me to send for you.”