"Why, your great-grandfather Clark had two sons, and when he died he left a will in which he gave both of his sons an undivided half interest in this land. But the elder son had disappeared--they could never find him." "Edward," observed the girl, remembering her uncle's frequent curses at the obstinate Edward. "Yes, I know. He went to Chicago and got lost." "Afterward he went to St. Louis, but beyond that no trace of him or his family can be found." "I suppose some day he will turn up when he hears that there's some money," Adelle remarked simply. The banker scowled. "Well, I hope not!... Edward isn't likely to now: he must be a young thing of eighty-seven by this time." "Well, his children, then." "They would have difficulty in proving their claim. You see there's been a judicial sale, ordered by the court, and every precaution taken.... No, there's no possibility of trouble in that quarter." "Then they won't get their money?" Adelle remarked, thinking how disappointed these hypothetical descendants of Edward Clark must be. "No," agreed the trust officer with a laugh. "They're too late for dinner." Adelle, who did not understand the mental jump of a figure of speech, stared at him blankly. "It's too bad," she observed placidly at last. "Yes, it is decidedly too bad for them," the banker repeated ironically. "But it's life." After this profound reflection they paddled idly for a few moments, and then the trust officer resumed, nearer to his theme. "So you see, Miss Clark, you're likely to be a pretty rich woman when you come of age. The old leases on the estate are running out, and as fast as they can the managers of the Clark's Field Associates sell at a good price or make a long lease at a high figure and everything helps to swell the estate, which we are investing safely for you in good stocks and bonds that are sure to increase in value before you will want to sell them." "How much money is there?" Adelle demanded unexpectedly. This was her opportunity to discover the size of her magic lamp. "I couldn't say off hand," the banker replied cautiously. "But enough to keep you from want, if you don't spend too much making jewelry." He added facetiously,--"You don't feel cramped for money, do you?" "No-o," the girl admitted dubiously. "But you can't always tell what you may want." "If you don't want much more than you do at present, you're safe," Mr. Crane stated guardedly. "That is, if nothing goes wrong--a panic, and that sort of thing." After a pause he said,-- "But you should have some one look after your property, invest it for you--a woman can't do that very well." "The bank does it, don't it?" "I mean after you are of age and have control of your own property." "Oh," the girl murmured vaguely, running her hand through the ripples of river water. "That's a good ways off!... I suppose I shall be married by that time, and _he_ will look after it for me."