“Considerably,” replied the captain. “You see the cattlemen have a theory that this is not a farming country. The settlers know better. Now last year and the year before there were no finer crops anywhere in the world than were grown on the farms in this part of the State. The old earth was recklessly improvident in her generosity; every farm was an overflowing granary of plenty. However, we have no quarrel with John Horton. He is one of our largest depositors, and a very manly fellow. His millions have not turned his head, although I cannot say as much for all members of his family. Ah, here comes a young scapegrace that I want you to know.” As the captain spoke, a little boy came bounding toward him through the open door of his private office, and nestled on his knee. The captain caressed him tenderly. The boy slipped one arm coaxingly about his father’s neck, and received the introduction to Hugh very bashfully. “This is my boy Harry,” said the captain. The little fellow was perhaps not more than five years old, but his face beamed with an older intelligence. “We are great companions,” said the captain, “and he takes more liberties with me than he has any right to—that’s what you do, you little rascal,” said he, addressing the boy and giving him an affectionate hug. “Won’t you come to me, Harry?” said Hugh, in a coaxing voice. “No, sir, ‘cause we’re not ‘kainted yet—when we is ‘kainted I will.” “This gentleman is my friend, Harry,” said the father, “and therefore he is your friend, too.” “All ‘ite, then,” said the boy, “I’s your fwend, too,” and he held out his hand, which Hugh clasped as a bond of good-fellowship between them. Hugh Stanton very early discovered that Captain Osborn’s life was centred in his young son. That evening, by invitation of the captain, Hugh dined at the Osborn home. He was very much surprised at the youthful appearance of the captain’s lovely wife. She made no efforts to conceal her feelings of superiority and indifference toward the captain, but she was very gracious toward Hugh, and chatted away incessantly about her travels and her English friends. It seemed that the iron will of the captain, which he was noted for exercising in the business world, was changed to all forbearance and courtly respect toward his wife; although one could readily discover a sad lack of sympathy between them. Indeed, there was but little in common between Captain Osborn and his wife. During dinner the captain made some remark relative to the superiority of American institutions, when his wife quickly interposed: “Captain, you know nothing about it. You will do far better to discuss matters of business, bank stocks, and that sort of thing. They seem to suit your particular style of intellect; but of society and what constitutes the best taste, why, really, you are not an authority.”