From that day Francis Wolfe became Jemingham's inseparable companion. Every night they went to the theater together or else they spent the evening in Jemingham's rooms, listening to celebrities. Their evenings soon became famous. Indeed, people began to talk about Frank Wolfe's reform. Even his fairest and frailest friends, knowing that Frank forfeited one hundred dollars a day by falling off the water-wagon, kept him firmly on the seat--and borrowed the hundred. In due time the miracle reached the ears of Frank's sisters and of his aunt, Mrs. Stimson. They had a talk with Frank. They were first amazed, then delighted, when they saw Frank and when they heard about Jerningham's intention of making him his heir. Thus it came about that, out of gratitude for the man who was making a man of their brother, Mrs. John Burt and Mrs. Sydney Walsingham accepted Mr. Jerningham's invitation and attended one of the lectures at the Klondiker's apartments. The little supper that followed was a great success. Mr. Jemingham talked little, but extremely well--as when he said to Mrs. Jack in a low voice that he loved Frank Wolfe and some day everybody would be sure of it! “I am merely training him. But don't think I am asking the impossible. I wish him to know enough to hold on to what I'll leave him.” Of course after that Mr. Jerningham was not only in society, but even in a fair way of becoming a fad. Gerald Lanier, the short-story writer, said that Jerningham was society's gold cure and had climbed into the inner circles on a ladder made of tightly corked wine-bottles; in fact, he wrote what his nonliterary friends called a skit--and Frank's friends a knock--entitled: “How to Capitalize Intemperance.” But that did not hinder Jerningham from receiving invitations from families with thirsty younger sons. VI One morning Jemingham, who had seemed preoccupied, said to Frank: “I wonder if I can ask you--” He paused and looked doubtfully at Frank. “What?” “A favor.” “Of course. Why, you can even touch me if you want to.” “I wonder if your--if Mrs. Burt would invite Mrs. Ashton Welles to dinner?” “I guess so. I'll ask her.” “That way you could meet Mrs. Welles, and--” “You mean,” said Frank, trying to look like Sherlock Holmes, “I could ask her about your--about her sister?” Jerningham jumped to his feet in consternation. “Great Scott, no! No!” he shouted. “Why, I thought--” “You can't ask her that until you know her so well that you can take a friend's liberty. Promise me you won't ask her until I myself tell you that you may! Promise!” There was in his eyes a look of such intensity that young Wolfe was startled. “Of course I'll promise.” “You must make friends with her first. She must learn to like you--” Francis Wolfe smiled a trifle fatuously. It was merely boyish. A little more, however, would have made the smile ungentlemanly. Jerningham continued, very earnestly: