“And he’s discharged all that Isthmian crowd,” she went on. “Better,” I said. “And made my brother president of the new company,” she continued, and then raised her eyebrows, and waited, smiling. “Oh, well,” I said, “since he’s your brother--‘best.’” “That’s right,” she cried. “That’s very nice of you. Here comes mother. I want you to meet her.” Mother came toward us, out of a French dress-maker’s. It was one of the places I had decided against, when I had passed it a few minutes before. It seemed one of the few business houses where a French linguist would be superfluous. I was presented as “Captain Macklin--who, you know, mother--who fought the duel with Arthur--that is, who didn’t shoot at him.” Mrs. Fiske looked somewhat startled. Even to a trained social leader it must be trying to have a man presented to you on a sidewalk as the one who did not shoot your son. Mrs. Fiske had a toy dog under one arm, and was holding up her train, but she slipped the dog to the groom, and gave me her hand. “How do you do, Mr.--Captain Macklin,” she said. “My son has told me a great deal about you. Have you asked Captain Macklin to come to see us, Helen?” she said, and stepped into the brougham. “Come in any day after five,” said Miss Fiske, “and we’ll have tortillas and frijoles, and build a camp-fire in the library. What’s your address?” “Dobbs Ferry,” I said. “Just Dobbs Ferry?” she asked. “But you’re such a well-known person, Captain Macklin.” “I’m Mr. Macklin now,” I answered, and I tried to shut the door on them, but the groom seemed to think that was his privilege, and so I bowed, and they drove away. Then I went at once to a drug-store and borrowed the directory, to find out where they lived, and I walked all the way up the avenue to have a look at their house. Somehow I felt that for that day I could not go on asking for a job. I saw a picture of myself on a high stool in the French dressmaker’s writing to the Paris house for more sable cloaks for Mrs. Fiske. The Fiske mansion overlooks Central Park, and it is as big as the Academy of Music. I found that I knew it well by sight. I at once made up my mind that I never would have the courage to ring that door-bell, and I mounted a Fifth Avenue stage, and took up my work of reconnoitering for a job where Miss Fiske had interrupted it.