"It was John Nugent's house," said Gerald. "How did it catch fire? Was much damage done?" These questions were answered partly by Gerald, partly by the blacksmith. "I don't know Mr. Nugent," said Mrs. Lane. "He doesn't go anywhere. Mr. Lane visited him occasionally. He has very few visitors." "He will have two this evening." Mrs. Lane looked an inquiry. "He has invited Gerald and me to call upon him?" explained the blacksmith. Mrs. Lane looked surprised. "That is something unusual," she said. "Mr. Crane probably saved his life," said Gerald. "Oh, I don't know," said Alonzo, modestly. "You see I am used to bein' at fires. I am captain of the Hillsdale fire company," he added, with an intonation of pride. "I wouldn't want to be a fireman," said Abel. "Why not?" "Firemen are low." "You won't think so if you are ever in a burning house, Abel." "They are a very useful class of people," said Mrs. Lane. "You wouldn't want me to be a fireman, ma, would you?" "No, perhaps not." "You might be something a great deal worse, nephew," said the blacksmith. "Has Mr. Nugent no family?" asked Mr. Crane. "He has a grandson about my age, but he is at a boarding-school somewhere," answered Gerald. About half-past seven Gerald rang the bell at Mr. Nugent's residence. The door was opened by the servant-maid whom they had seen in the afternoon. "Come in," she said, without waiting for them to speak. "The master is up-stairs in the library." "I haven't got any library in my house, Gerald," said the blacksmith, jocosely. "I hope he won't tackle me on books." They found Mr. Nugent sitting in a large easy-chair beside the library table. "I am glad to see you both," he said, cordially, offering his hand. "Our acquaintance has been formed under circumstances very favorable to myself. I am very much indebted to you, Mr. Crane." "Oh, it ain't worth talkin' about, squire," said the blacksmith. "You seem to set a small value on my life, Mr. Crane," said the old gentleman, smiling. "Oh, I don't mean that." "I understand. You are only showing your modesty. Now let me tell you why I have invited you here. You have placed me under a great obligation. Now can I do anything for you?" Alonzo's face lighted up with a sudden idea. But he did not quite like to express it. "I wouldn't like to trouble you, Mr. Nugent," he said. "Then there is something. Let me know what it is?" "Well, the fact is, squire, I came to Portville to ask my sister—that's Mrs. Lane—if she would lend me two hundred dollars to rebuild my shop that was badly injured by fire last week, but she says she can't do it." "How much money do you require, Mr. Crane?" "I think I could manage on two hundred dollars." "What is your given name?" asked Mr. Nugent, drawing a check-book from a desk on the table. "Alonzo Crane is what people call me in our village." John Nugent took the pen and filled out a check, which he passed over to the blacksmith.