"Oh, no, sir! I wish they did. The Harlings are at Number 40 Broad Street. It is the corner house. They took the tenement because there was sun, and because it entertains Grandfather and Mrs. Harling to look out the window. They can't ever go out and it cheers them up to have something to see. It costs more to live there than where we do, but Hal and Louise decided it was worth it." "Under the circumstances I imagine it is," assented the stranger. "Well, we will wish them luck." "I hope they have it!" "So do I." As he spoke the man pressed a bell in answer to which the uniformed page appeared. "Show this young gentleman out, Billie," said he. "Good-by, youngster! Good-by!" The farewell was cordial and in its cadence rang so disconcerting a finality that try as he might Carl could not repress a conviction that in spite of his suave promises his new-found friend did not really expect to see him again. "I guess there are folks like that," meditated he, as he walked dispiritedly home. "They are awful pleasant to your face and give you the feeling they are going to do wonders for you. But when it comes to the scratch they slide from under. This chap is one of that slick bunch, I'll bet a hat." It was not a cheering reflection and with every step lower and lower ebbed his hopes. It chanced that his pathway to Mulberry Court led past the corner of Broad Street (or if it did not really lead him there his subconscious mind did) and once in the vicinity what more natural than that he should drop in at Number 40 to pass the time of day? Grandfather Harling loved to have visitors. He said they cheered him up. But to-day neither the old gentleman nor any of the Harling family needed cheering. Carl found them in such high spirits that for a time it was difficult to get any of the group to talk coherently. "What do you suppose has happened, Carl?" cried Louise, the instant he was inside the door. "The most wonderful thing! You never could guess if you guessed forever." "If it is as hopeless as that I shan't try," laughed Carl. "But it is amazing, a miracle!" put in Mrs. Harling. "We can't understand it at all," quavered Grandfather Harling, who was quite as excited as the rest. "Well, what _is_ it?" the boy demanded. "You'll never believe it," laughed Louise with shining eyes. "I've had a letter. You couldn't guess who it's from!" She held a square white envelope high above her head. "I'm going to have it framed and hand it down to my great-great-grandchildren." "You might let me see it," coaxed Carl, putting out his hand. "Oh, it is far too precious to be touched. It is going to be an archive, an heirloom, you know." "Oh, come on and tell a chap what's happened," urged Carl, his patience beginning to wane.