"Miss Manson can reach the sugar bowl herself," interposed Mrs. Osborn, with a reproving frown. "I like to be neighborly, my dear," said her husband, deprecatingly. "I see you do." Miss Manson smiled, and so did others at the table, who detected Mrs. Osborn's jealousy. "Have you read the President's financial message, Mr. Osborn?" asked Mr. Kimball. "No; I don't take any interest in such things." "I have read it, Mr. Kimball," said Mrs. Osborn, "and I approve his recommendations." "So do I, with one exception," returned Mr. Kimball; and they began a conversation in which none of the other boarders took an interest. When supper was over, Andy and Sam went for a walk. Mr. Warren excused himself on the ground that he was writing a poem for one of the magazines. "So you are with a jeweler," said Sam. "I may come up and buy a ring some day. Do you allow a discount to friends?" "I don't know yet. I will favor you if I can." CHAPTER XVIII. A PLOT AGAINST ANDY. Some six weeks later, about the middle of the forenoon, a Western Union Telegraph boy entered the store and handed Mr. Flint a telegram. Tearing it open, the jeweler read the contents and seemed quite agitated. "Mr. Rich," he said, turning to the head clerk, "I have bad news. My only brother is dangerously sick. This dispatch says that if I wish to see him alive I must start at once." "Where does he live?" "In Denver, Colorado." "That is a long way off." "Yes. I don't see how I can leave the business, but I cannot bear to think of my brother dying without my seeing him again." "I think, sir, that I can keep things straight. I have been with you for six years." "True, and you know the business thoroughly. Besides, you can write or telegraph me, if need be, every day." "I will do so, sir. You can depend on me." "Besides, you will have Andrew to help you. He is a good and faithful boy." To this Simon Rich made no reply, but there was a look on his face that boded no good for Andy. "I think I will go home at once and get ready. It is necessary that I should start immediately. I shall have no time to give you directions, but I will write you as soon as I reach Denver." "Very well, sir," said Simon Rich, smoothly. "Make your mind quite easy. All will go well during your absence." Half an hour later, when Andy returned from an errand, Mr. Flint was gone. "I have a message for Mr. Flint," said Andy, as he entered the store. "You can give it to me." "I was told to deliver it to Mr. Flint personally." "You will find that rather a hard job, young man," said Rich, with a sneer. "I don't understand you," returned Andy, in surprise. "Mr. Flint is on his way to Denver by this time." "Does he go on business?" "He has received news that his only brother lies there at the point of death." "How long will he be gone?" asked Andy, who began to understand that this was likely to prove bad news for him.