"The little Omahussy grown up to be a tall young lady?" said he, in a pleased fashion. "Yes, yes, I suppose so. No doubt. And tall, you say? Even when she was here last she was getting on; but the only photograph I have of her was done long before that—when she was hardly more than twelve; and then I’m an old bachelor, you see; I’m not accustomed to watch children grow up; and somehow I remember her mostly as when I first knew her—a shy young thing, and yet something of a little woman in her ways. Grown up good-looking, too, I suppose?—both her father and mother were handsome." "If you saw her now," said Vincent, "I think you would say she was beautiful; though it might not be her beauty that would take your attention the most." The elderly banker regarded this young man for a second or so—and with a favouring glance: he was clearly well impressed. "I hope you will not consider me intrusive or impertinent if I ask you a question," said he. "I am an old friend of George Bethune’s—perhaps the oldest alive now; and besides that I have always regarded myself as a sort of second father to the little Margaret—though their wandering way of life has taken her out of my care. Now—don’t answer unless you like—tell me to mind my own business—but at the same time one would almost infer, from your coming over here in search of them, that you have some particular interest in the young lady——" "It is the chief interest of my life," said Vincent, with simple frankness. "And that is why I cannot rest until I find them." "Well, now, one question more," the banker continued. "I don’t wish to pry into any young lady’s secrets—but—but perhaps there may be some understanding between her and you?" "I hope so," said Vincent. "And the young wretch never wrote me a line to tell me of it!" Mr. Thompson exclaimed—but it was very obvious that this piece of news had caused him no chagrin. "The little Omahussy grows up to be a fine and tall young lady; chooses her sweetheart for herself; thinks of getting married and all the rest of it; and not a word to me! Here is filial gratitude for you! Why, does she forget what I have promised to do for her? Not that I ever said so to her; you don’t fill a school-girl’s head full of wedding fancies; but her grandfather knew; her grandfather must have told her when this affair was settled between you and her——" But here Vincent had to interpose and explain that nothing was settled; that unhappily everything was unsettled; and further he went on to tell of all that had happened preceding the disappearance of Maisrie and her grandfather. For this man seemed of a kindly nature; he was an old friend of those two; then Vincent had been very much alone of late—there was no one in Omaha in whom he could confide. Mr. Thompson listened with close attention; and at last he said—