Sally remembered, now, that she had heard her father speak of John Hazen--John Hazen, Junior--with that sneering laugh of his; that cold, mirthless laugh with which he managed to cast ridicule upon anything or anybody. This nice old gentleman must be John Hazen, Junior. But why should a stooping old man with a long white beard be called Junior? Why, on earth, Sally wondered. Surely, such an old man--she would speak to Cousin Martha about it. Perhaps Cousin Martha had a brother who was John, Junior. As for Cousin Martha's father, she had always taken it for granted that he was a disembodied spirit. There was a coal fire bubbling in the grate in the back parlor. A great easy-chair was drawn up to the fire, and beside it, on the floor, lay the morning paper, where Uncle John had dropped it. There were other easy-chairs in the room, and books and magazines were scattered over the centre table. The centre table had a much-stained green cloth top, Sally noticed. Altogether, this room was cheerful, in its own way, as any room which is lived in must be; as the great front parlor was not. Its way was not the way Sally had been used to. It was too dark, to begin with, and the heavy curtains only half drawn back from the windows kept out most of the light which managed to straggle past the trees. The old gentleman began to place other chairs, but Fox did it for him. "Thank you," he said. "And now, as soon as Patty comes back, I shall have to leave you, if you will excuse me. I usually go downtown earlier than this, but I wished to see Sally before I went. I hope you will make yourselves quite at home." Consideration of just this kind was a new thing for Sally. "Oh, thank you," she cried, flushing with pleasure. "It was very nice of you to want to wait for me." The old gentleman again smiled his quiet smile; but before he could say anything, Cousin Martha came in. "I have some breakfast for you," she announced. "Will you go to your rooms first, or have something to eat first?" There was no room for doubt as to Charlie's preference in the matter. Miss Hazen smiled. "Very well, then," she said. "I think that will be better. Have your breakfast while it is hot. Then I can take you up and get you settled. The trunks will have got here by that time." "I will go now, Patty," said her father, "if you will be good enough to help me with my overcoat." So she stopped in the hall and held his coat and he bade good-bye to every one by name, and went out slowly. "Does Uncle John go downtown every day?" Sally asked, soon after. She was busy with her breakfast. "Oh, mercy, yes," Miss Hazen replied. "He is as well able to attend to his business as ever. And he always walks, unless it is very bad walking: icy or very muddy. I am afraid that he might slip and fall, and old bones, you know, do not mend easily." "Is he--is he," Sally went on, hesitating, "John Hazen, Junior?" "Yes," answered Cousin Martha. "He has kept the Junior."