"You hardly look as old as I imagined you to be from the papers," declared the general, regarding a bit enviously the youth who had made millions in a few short weeks by a sensational stroke of financial genius. "I have a young mug," explained the Watermelon modestly. The general looked a bit startled. Henrietta laughed. She had always wanted to meet a man in the making. "I hope that if you have no other engagement, you will dine with us," said she. "Certainly," cried the general. "Have you a previous appointment?" "With myself," said the Watermelon. "To dine." "You will dine with us," declared the general, and that settled it. "Get into my car. Alphonse will steer yours." The Watermelon made one last protest against highway robbery in broad daylight, but the general waved him to silence and the Watermelon decided that if they wished to make off with the stranger’s car it was no fault of his. He had done his best to stop it. He climbed into the general’s car, the general cranked up and they were off, Alphonse and the Thomas car trailing along behind. *CHAPTER IV* *AND WHEN I DINE* Henrietta turned sidewise that she might the better converse with her guest. "I noticed by the papers that you always make it a point to spend Sundays in the country somewhere near New York, so that you can return quickly in your car. I suppose that you really need the rest and quiet for your week’s work." "I never work when I can rest," said the Watermelon truthfully. "That’s right, that’s right," agreed the general, torn between a desire to talk to the phenomenal young financier, who in one night had set New York all agog, and to avoid a smash-up with the stone walls on either side of the road. "Men are altogether too eager to make money." "Yes," said Henrietta. "Everything nowadays is money, money, money." Then remembering who her guest was, she added quickly, "I think it is splendid in your getting away from it all and spending one day a week in the country, close to nature. They say that stock-brokers are never happy away from the Street." "But I am not a stock-broker," explained the Watermelon, with his candid, boyish smile. "I’m a lamb." Henrietta laughed. "But not fleeced," said she gaily. "Not yet," admitted the Watermelon, wondering if William Hargrave Batchelor was still enjoying his swim. "What you want to do, now that you have made your ’pile,’" advised the general, as the machine swerved dangerously near a tree, "is to leave the Street at once. Invest your money in U.S. government bonds and buy a place in the country." "You don’t like the country yourself, father, except in the summer," objected Henrietta.