"Why do you want to know?" she demanded. "What concern is it of yours?" "I want to see her on important business," he said doggedly. Mrs. Parkes held up her finger warningly. "Now, Harry--don't make a fool of yourself. Remember--this Miss Marsh is a boarder--under my roof. She seems a nice girl--even if she does owe me three weeks' rent. But she's nothing for you to waste your time on." Harry held up his hand in protest. "Mother," he cried. "I'm thirty years old--I'm earning fifteen hundred a year as assistant draughtsman in the office of the biggest firm of architects in New York City. I'm a free, separate entity, an independent individual, a somebody, and I warn you--if you try to pick out my company for me--as you did for my father, you'll lose me as you did him. You'll not only be a grass widow, but a grass mother. I want to see Miss Marsh because--well, I want to see her----" "She owes me three weeks' board," repeated Mrs. Parkes doggedly. "What of it?" he laughed. "I don't want to see her about that." "I don't trust a girl who owes me three weeks' lodging----" "You do trust her, or she wouldn't owe you. You trust her because she's a lady, because you like her--yes, you do! She's in trouble, mother--and you're never hard on anyone that's in trouble, you dear old bundle of inconsistencies!" Going up to his mother, he put his arm round her neck. Kissing her, he added: "She'll pay you as soon as she gets the money her father left her. You know she's won her lawsuit." Fumbling in her pocket, Mrs. Parkes drew out an envelope. "Yes, so I heard," she said dryly, "but this is a little reminder--just to let her know how much it is. I never knew you took such an interest in her affairs." "An interest?" exclaimed Harry, with mock surprise. "What nonsense. Come here, mother--sit down. I want to talk seriously with you." Drawing up a chair, he made her take a seat. Taking a seat opposite, he asked: "Mother, was my father a serious man?" "Never--except when he was broke." "Well--I am serious. I love Paula Marsh. Now, don't faint. Last night I asked her to be my wife----" Mrs. Parkes gasped. "Not one word against her," he went on anxiously. "I know your first impulses are never friendly." Mrs. Parkes nodded her head sagaciously. "If--if she inherits all her father's money--you might do worse." "No--no, mother," replied her son, shrugging his shoulders. "You're mistaken. I love her for herself--not for her money. Besides, she may not get the money after all. Mr. Ricaby, her lawyer, telephoned last night that there is a new move now against her. You see her father made a will leaving her all his money. Her Uncle James is contesting the will and the estate is tied up and she can't get any of it. She hasn't money enough even to get good lawyers. I think Ricaby's an old fluff. It's a shame the way her relations are trying to do her out of it. How I do hate relations!"