It was the middle of September when he reached Saratoga again, where he found Mr. and Mrs. Huntress and Gladys, all impatient over his long absence, and overjoyed at his return. They had remained there far beyond the date they had intended, and they had only waited for his coming to go home. They left immediately and arrived in Brooklyn the twentieth of the month, and were all delighted to be beneath their own “vine and fig tree” once more. When Geoffrey told Mr. Huntress how fruitless had been his search, except for what he had learned from the Henlys, he replied, as he laid his hand affectionately on the young man’s shoulder: “For your sake, Geoff, I am sorry, for I know that you are sensitive regarding the subject of your parentage; but for my part, my boy, I am content, for I am free to own that I should feel a trifle jealous of any other man who should claim you and occupy the place of a father toward you.” All this was very pleasant to Geoffrey, but he knew that nothing would ever satisfy him until he could learn the whole secret; and he was now convinced that there was a carefully guarded secret regarding his birth. The week following the return of the family to Brooklyn, Mr. Huntress came home from his office somewhat earlier than usual, and drawing Geoffrey into the library, he said: “Geoff, you have had a good deal to say about business this summer; how would you like to get into something right away?” The young man’s face was instantly all aglow. “First rate,” he replied, eagerly. “I don’t care how soon I begin to do something for myself. I’ve been an idler long enough.” “‘An idler!’ good gracious! Geoff, I wonder what your idea of work is, if you have been idle during the last four years!” exclaimed Mr. Huntress, with elevated brows. “Well, I mean that I’ve been dependent long enough,” Geoffrey corrected. “Now, my boy, you couldn’t hurt me worse than to talk like that. I have been paid a dozen times over, for all you have cost me, in the pride I’ve taken in you,” his friend replied, reproachfully. “My debt is a heavy one all the same, Uncle August—one that I can never pay—though I shall never cease to be grateful for your kindness. But about this business prospect, what is it?” “Well, you see, the firm wants me to go to Europe,” began Mr. Huntress, “to look after some of our interests there, which have been causing us some anxiety of late; but I have a perfect horror of the sea, and can’t make up my mind to take the voyage. No one else can be spared, and so, if I cannot get a substitute, I suppose I shall have to screw my courage up to it somehow. Now, any man of ordinary intelligence can transact the business—the chief requisites are energy, honesty, and interest—and I want you to go in my place, Geoff. Your business career and your salary shall commence from the moment you give me your decision.”