"You must have been talking a great deal to young Hargrave lately," said Hiram shrewdly. She blushed. "That's true," she admitted, with a laugh. "But I'm not altogether parroting what he said. I do my own thinking." She rose. "I'm afraid I haven't cheered you up much." "I'm glad you came," replied Hiram earnestly; then, with an admiring look, "It's a pity some of the men of your family haven't got your energy." She laughed. "They have," said she. "Every one of us is a first-rate talker--and that's all the energy I've got--energy to wag my tongue. Still--You didn't know I'd gone into business?" "Business?" "That is, I'm backing Stella Wilmot in opening a little shop--to sell millinery." "A Wilmot at work!" exclaimed Hiram. "A Wilmot at work," affirmed Henrietta. "She's more like her great grandfather; you know how a bad trait will skip several generations and then show again. The Wilmots have been cultivating the commonness of work out of their blood for three generations, but it has burst in again. She made a declaration of independence last week. She told the family she was tired of being a pauper and beggar. And when I heard she wanted to do something I offered to go in with her in a business. She's got a lot of taste in trimming hats. She certainly has had experience enough." "She always looks well," said Hiram. "And you'd wonder at it, if you were a woman and knew what she's had to work on. So I took four hundred dollars grandfather sent me as a birthday present, and we're going to open up in a small way. She's to put her name out--my family won't let me put mine out, too. 'Wilmot & Hastings' would sound well, don't you think? But it's got to be 'Wilmot & Co.' We've hired a store--No. 263 Monroe Street. We have our opening in August." "Do you need any--" began Hiram. "No, thank you," she cut in, with a laugh. "This is a close corporation. No stock for sale. We want to hold on to every cent of the profits." "Well," said Hiram, "if you ever do need to borrow, you know where to come." "Where the whole town comes when it's hard up," said Henrietta; and she astonished the old man by giving him a shy, darting kiss on the brow. "Now, don't you tell your wife!" she exclaimed, laughing and blushing furiously and making for the door.