"How much do you earn?" asked the lawyer, quietly. "Twelve dollars a week. But it's an interesting experience, Mr. Jarrod. You've no idea how well a fellow can live on twelve dollars a week--unless you've tried it." Jarrod smiled. "Where are you bound for?" he asked. "A little place called Tamawaca, there to spend my two weeks' vacation. Just think of it! After fourteen months I've saved enough for an outing. It isn't a princely sum, to be sure--nothing like what I spent in a day at college--but by economy I can make it do me in that out-of-the-way place, where the hotel board is unusually cheap." "I'm told it is as bad as it is cheap," said Jarrod. "That stands to reason, sir. I'm not expecting much but rest and sunshine and fresh air--and perhaps a nice girl to dance with in the evening. "I see." "And, by the way, Mr. Jarrod," this with some hesitation, "please don't tell anyone who I am, if you're asked. I call myself James Ingram--Ingram was my mother's name, you know--and I'd rather people wouldn't know who my father is, or why I'm living in this modest way. They would either blame me or pity me, and I won't endure either from strangers, for it's none of their business." "I'll remember, Jim. Will you let me present you to Mrs. Jarrod?" "Not tonight, please. This meeting has a little upset me. Wait till I get settled a bit. You're going to Tamawaca." "Yes. We shall spend the summer there, if we like it." "Then, sir, I'll be sure to see you again. Good night, Mr. Jarrod." The young man walked on, and the lawyer looked after him approvingly. "He'll do," he muttered. "He hasn't crushed down the pride yet, and I hope he never will. But he's got a backbone, and that's worth everything!" In drawing a chair to the rail he found that seated beside him was the little fat man he had noticed at the Annex. This jovial individual was smoking a big cigar and leaning back contentedly with his feet against the bulwark. Jarrod thought the expression upon the round face invited companionship. "Going to Tamawaca?" he asked. "Yep," said Geo. B. Still. "Been there before?" continued Jarrod, leaning back in turn. "Yep. Own a cottage there." "Oh," said the other; "then I'm glad to meet you." "Because I own a cottage?" "No; because you can tell me something about the place." "Sure thing!" responded Geo. B. "Climate's fine. When I first went there I had a bad case of indigestion. Doc said I was as good as dead. Told me to eat toasted straw for breakfast and have my wife get her black ready. Look at me now! Would a crape manufacturer smile at my picture? Pshaw!" "You seem very well," remarked Jarrod. "Was it the breakfast food, or the climate?"