"Jimmy is staying here, father. He is the friend Spennie was bringing." "This is the friend that Spennie brought," said Jimmy in a rapid undertone. "This is the maiden all forlorn who crossed the seas, and lived in the house that sheltered the friend that Spennie brought." "I see, me dear," said Mr. McEachern slowly. "'Wah----" "No, I've guessed that one already," said Jimmy. "Ask me another." Molly looked reproachfully at him. His deplorable habit of chaffing her father had caused her trouble in the old days. It may be admitted that this recreation of Jimmy's was not in the best taste; but it must also be remembered that the relations between the two had always been out of the ordinary. Great as was his affection for Molly, Jimmy could not recollect a time when war had not been raging in a greater or lesser degree between the ex-policeman and himself. "It is very kind of you to invite me down here," said he. "We shall be able to have some cozy chats over old times when I was a wanderer on the face of the earth, and you----" "Yis, yis," interrupted Mr. McEachern hastily, "somewhere ilse, aftherward." "You shall choose time and place, of course. I was only going to ask you how you liked leaving the----" "United States?" put in Mr. McEachern, with an eagerness which broadened his questioner's friendly smile, as the Honorable Louis Wesson came toward them. "Well, I'm not after saying it was not a wrinch at firrst, but I considered it best to lave Wall Street--Wall Street, ye understand, before----" "I see. Before you fell a victim to the feverish desire for reckless speculation which is so marked a characteristic of the American business man, what?" "That's it," said the other, relieved. "I, too, have been speculating," said Mr. Wesson, "as to whether you would care to show me the rose garden, Miss McEachern, as you promised yesterday. Of all flowers, I love roses best. You remember Bryant's lines, Miss McEachern? 'The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower.'" Jimmy interposed firmly. "I'm very sorry," he said, "but the fact is Miss McEachern has just promised to take me with her to feed the fowls. "I gamble on fowls," he thought. "There must be some in a high-class establishment of this kind." "I'd quite forgotten," said Molly. "I thought you had. We'd better start at once. Nothing upsets a fowl more than having to wait for dinner." "Nonsense, me dear Molly," said Mr. McEachern bluffly. "Run along and show Mr. Wesson the roses. Nobody wants to waste time over a bunch of hens." "Perhaps not," said Jimmy thoughtfully, "perhaps not. I might be better employed here, amusing the people by telling them all about our old New York days and----" Mr. McEachern might have been observed, and was so observed by Jimmy, to swallow somewhat convulsively. "But as Molly promised ye----" said he. "Just so," said Jimmy. "My own sentiments, neatly expressed. Shall we start, Miss McEachern?"