With old-fashioned courtesy he gave her his arm into the dining-room, and as they seated themselves at table he said: “You look like your mother, Miss Molly, and I am glad of it; the same forehead and eyes, and the same kind expression. I was afraid when I saw you last you were going to look like your father. He isn’t so bad looking, considering the life he has led, but it would be a calamitous thing for a well-meaning girl to resemble any lawyer.” She laughed: “But papa is not as bad as he looks, you know.” “Yes, he is; I have known him longer than you have. But there seem to be honors in dishonor. During these years that I have been trotting about the globe he has been climbing higher and higher, until now his legs are dangling from the topmost round. Why, I understand that none but the solidest billionaires and the fattest monopolies presume to retain him.” “I am afraid someone took you for a hay-seed, Sam, and has been stuffing you.” “No, they have not!” exclaimed the daughter. “Everybody says he is the best lawyer in New York. He has refused to be a judge several times!” “Oh, come, Molly! Don’t make a fool of your old father!” “Go ahead, Miss Molly,” cried Mr. Fettiplace. “Don’t mind him! I know you are right. But I suppose he pays the customary penalty for his greatness; slaves day and night, both summer and winter, eh?” “Yes, he does, and if you have any influence with him, Mr. Fettiplace, I wish you would bring it to bear.” “I will. He shall do just as you decide.” “Now, Molly,” said Mr. Cabot, “be just. Have I not promised to take a three months’ vacation this summer?” “Where do you spend the summer?” asked Mr. Fettiplace. “I don’t know yet. We gave up our place at the shore two years ago. The salt air does not agree with me any too well; and neither Molly nor I care for it particularly.” There was a pause, and the guest felt that the wife’s death might have saddened the pleasant memories in the house by the sea. As if struck with an idea, he laid down his fork and exclaimed: “Why not come to Daleford? There is a house all furnished and ready for you! My daughter and her husband are going abroad, and you could have it until November if you wished.” “Where is that, Sam?” “Well,” said Mr. Fettiplace, closing his eyes in a profound calculation, “I am weak at figures, but on the map it is north of Hartford and about a quarter of an inch below the Massachusetts border.” Mr. Cabot laughed. “I remember you were always weak at figures. What is it, a fashionable resort?” “Not at all. If that is what you are after, don’t think of it.” “But it is not what we are after,” said Molly. “We want a quiet place to rest and read in.” “With just enough walking and driving,” put in the father, “to induce us to eat and sleep a little more than is necessary.” “Then Daleford is your place,” and the huge guest, with his head to one side, rolled his light-blue eyes toward Molly. “Do tell us about it,” she demanded.