“Ah! your interest is reserved for your dolls as yet, my dear,” said her indulgent papa; “public affairs will come later. Good-morning then, Mr. Metzerott; thank you very much for your kindness. Mr. Clare, I am glad you did _not_ convince me, as at present I feel inclined to assist ‘Prices’ to the best of my ability, and yet I object to the Commune. A ‘divide’ is the last thing I should crave.” “It would be the last thing you’d _get_, in all probability,” growled Metzerott, “except”— “‘_Les aristocrates à la lanterne_, eh?’” said the millionnaire, with his glorious laugh. “Well, the best dog will probably find his way to the top, as usual. Friend Fritz, may I speak to you a moment?” “You have been very kind and polite,” continued the millionnaire courteously, when he had drawn Fritz aside from the rest, “and I should like to feel that you would not be a loser by it. Is there any favor I can do for you?” “Well,” said Fritz, after a moment’s thought, “there’s nothing mean about me; so if you should happen to stray into a railroad office, and see a pass to New York lying about handy, why, I don’t know but I might find use for it.” “You shall have it; that is, if I have the influence I ought to have. For two?” “Well, yes; in case of a bridal tour, you know,” said the young man, laughing. Henry Randolph slapped him on the shoulder genially. “It’s that pretty Miss Gretchen, I’ll bet a cookie,” he said. “I saw how it was this morning; if I hadn’t, the young ladies would have opened my eyes. Let me know in time, and I’ll send you a bridal present from Paris.” “I will, for a fact,” said Fritz Rolf. Mr. Randolph was sincerely glad to hear that Gretchen had so good a guardian as this wide-awake young Fritz. Frank was to be left in Micklegard as manager of the Randolph nail-mill, a position which he had, in fact, filled to the satisfaction of everybody but the hands, for several years. For he had a good business head, and much of his father’s “luck” at turning an honest penny, though he was by no means so popular as his genial sire. But did it never occur to this same courteous, genial, warm-hearted gentleman, who wished so exceedingly well to everybody, that an outspoken warning, either to his son, to Gretchen, or to her friends, might possibly have been in place? CHAPTER VII. GRADUAL ENFRANCHISEMENT. “If the Commune come, or _when_ it comes,” said Dr. Richards; “and meanwhile ‘Prices’ is acting as training-school, eh? I should like to make Mr. Clare’s acquaintance, Louis. Suppose you tell him that my old enemy, rheumatism, has me by the heels again, so that it is impossible for me to call upon him, and ask him to come and dine with us on Sunday. I’d write a note if I could hold a pen; or you might write for me, Alice.” “He’s not one to stand on ceremony if he thought you really wanted him to come,” replied Louis. “Don’t bother Mrs. Richards. I’ll tell him.”