"Pleasant!" he grinned. "Just you watch. I'll be her Fidus Achates. That's my specialty. Pretty, you say?" He kissed the tip of his fingers and gestured lightly toward the heavens. "I'm your man. Well, rather. I'll make Jerry want to pound my head. And if he neglects her for Marcia, I'll pound his." Una and her mother were having tea with Jerry on the terrace when we reached the Manor. Mrs. Habberton was, as Jerry had described her, "a dear old lady" with calm eyes and level brows, "astonishingly well informed" and immensely proud of her pretty daughter. She was not assertive and while I knew nothing of Mr. Habberton, she somehow conveyed the impression that if there was anything in Mendel's theory of the working of heredity she and her six daughters went a long way toward exemplifying it. There was a genuineness about the pair which was distinctly refreshing to Jack's jaded tastes in fashionable feminine fripperies and he fell into the conversation as smoothly as a finger into a well-fitting glove. Una made no secret of her delight at being at the Manor and her enthusiasm as we wandered over the place brought more than one smile into Jerry's tired face. I know that he enjoyed her being there, but there was a weight upon him which he masked with a dignity that might have deceived others but not Una or me. "You've been buying too many steamship companies this week. Jerry. I'm sure of it. You're 'sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.' It's too bad you have a conscience. It must be fearfully inconvenient." And then as we came to the swimming pool, "Isn't it huge? And all of marble! You're the most luxurious creature. I was just wondering--" She paused. "Wondering what--?" "How many Blank Street families I could clean in it without even changing the water." He laughed. "Build one. I'll pay for it." "It would be _great_ for the boys and men, wouldn't it? But, then--" she sighed. "We haven't got our club yet." He laughed again. "But you're going to have it, you know, when the day nursery is done." "Oh, are we?" "Of course, that's settled." We had reached the gymnasium. "And this is where you--?" A pleading look from Jerry made her pause. "And do you pull all these ropes? What fun! I believe you could have fifty boys in here at once all playing and not one of them in the other's way." We couldn't help smiling. In spite of herself, she was thinking in terms of her beloved Blank Street. "You'll have to forgive me, Jerry, if I'm covetous. That's my besetting sin. But it _is_ a fine place--so spacious. And it _would_ make such an adorable laundry!" "You shall have one," said Jerry. The girl laughed. "No. I won't dare to wish any more. The purse of Fortunatus brought him into evil ways. It must be terrible, Jerry, not to be able to want something." "But I do want many things." "Yes. I suppose we all do that," she said, quickly finishing the discussion, but I think she had noticed the sudden drop in Jerry's voice.