"As frightened as your namesake, General Roberts, at the head of his troops," smiled her new friend. "Braving an unknown city and a grim, unknown lawyer for the cause of right!" "Why, they call me 'Bobs' after General Roberts at home when I'm unusually daring," cried Rob, delighted. "Most fittingly," commented Mr. Baldwin. "And now, 'Bobs bahadur,' I'm going to wire your mother not to act until she hears from me, and add that you're all right; she must be troubled about you. This warrants our holding off on this first offer." And Mr. Baldwin held up his friend's note in one hand, while with the other he drew a telegraph-blank toward him. The telegram dispatched, Rob reached for her hat, and began to adjust it as she vainly tried to smooth her turbulent locks. "What shall I do? Go back to Fayre to-night, or will you tell me which hotel to go to--am I needed here longer?" she asked, thrusting a hatpin through her braid. "You are needed here, Roberta," said Mr. Baldwin. "My intention is to see certain people who may be interested in your father's invention, and if you really do understand it and can describe it, we can interest them sufficiently to get them to see the models. Can you do this?" "Patergrey said one day that I could exhibit his invention as well as he could," said Rob, quietly. "That was with the models; describing it might be harder." "If you can do one, you can do the other sufficiently well to give an idea of what there is to be seen," smiled Mr. Baldwin. "As to a hotel, my little girl, I strongly recommend one kept by a host called Baldwin. It is up in Seventy-third Street, and is fairly comfortable, and quite commodious enough for one person of sixteen. In it there is a landlady who loves such guests, and a girl--the daughter of the landlord and landlady--called Hester Baldwin, who is not rich in sisters as you are--has none, in fact, and who will welcome you as a traveller in the desert welcomes water. So I think there is no doubt that the Baldwin Inn is the best place for you, my dear; but of one thing I am sure--Sylvester Grey's little girl cannot go anywhere else, so make the best of it." "How good you are, Mr. Baldwin!" cried Rob, gratefully. "How can I ever thank you?" "By telling my girl all you have told me, and as much more as you can remember, of the little grey house, my dear," replied Mr. Baldwin, helping Rob into her coat. "There are qualities in that little house and its occupants sadly out of fashion, and I'd like Hester to taste their flavor. She's a good girl, is Hester; she'll see their beauty. And now, come, my dear Rob, you brave little Casabianca; I'm going to take you home to rest and have a good time. But first I'm going to take you to lunch. Upon my word, we've neither of us tasted food! Why, Rob, you must be starving! And see how interested I have been! That's the first time I've forgotten my lunch-hour since I don't know when--probably not since my base-ball days!"