Once in St. Louis, however, I began to get the proper focus on my material interests. It occurred to me that Sumner _pere_ had done more or less business with a certain bank, a private concern engineered by two ultra-conservative citizens named Bolton and Kerr. I hunted them up, thinking that they would likely be able to tell me just what I needed to know. And it happened that by luck I came in the nick of time. A clerk took in my card, and returned immediately for me. I found the senior member, wrapping the bit of pasteboard around his forefinger when I was ushered in. We shook hands, and he motioned to a chair. I asked for information, and I got it, straight from the shoulder. Bolton was very economical in the use of words. “Yes, I knew your father well. There is a sum of money to his account in the bank. He died intestate,” he told me bluntly. “In view of a communication I have just received, you will have little to do with any property until you are of age. The estate is now in the hands of an administrator—appointed by a Texas court. The court will probably order that you be allowed a certain monthly sum until your majority.” “I see,” said I thoughtfully; I hadn’t considered that phase of it, although in a hazy way I knew something of the regular procedure. “Will our place here be managed by this administrator?” “Very likely,” Bolton returned. “He has served us with a court order for the estate funds now in our hands. But you are legally entitled to the use and occupancy of the family residence until such time as the estate is appraised and the inventory returned. After that the administrator has discretionary power; he can make any disposition of the property, meanwhile making provision for your support.” “It seems to me,” I hazarded, “that some relative should have been appointed.” “Exactly,” Bolton nodded. “They made no move, though. And this Texas person acted at once: I dare say it’s all right. However, you’re a minor. Better have some responsible person appointed your guardian. Then if there’s any mismanagement, you can take court action to have it remedied. Frankly, I don’t like the look of this haste to administer. May be all right; may be all wrong.” “See here,” I burst out impulsively, for I had taken a sudden liking to this short-spoken individual who talked to me with one foot on a desk and a half-smoked cigar tucked in the corner of his mouth, “what’s the matter with you becoming my guardian? None of my people seem to have thought of it. I’m sure we’d get along all right. It would be a mere matter of form, anyway.”