Mr. Phineas Duge, since the death of his wife, had closed his doors to
all his friends, and entertained only on rare occasions a few of the men
with whom he was connected in his many business enterprises. On the
arrival of Virginia, however, he lifted his finger, and Society stormed
at his doors. The great reception rooms were thrown open, the servants
were provided with new liveries, an entertainment office was given carte
blanche to engage the usual run of foreign singers and the best known
mountebanks of the moment. Mrs. Trevor Harrison, the woman whom he had
selected as chaperon for Virginia, more than once displayed some
curiosity, when talking to her charge, as to this sudden change in the
habits of a man whose lack of sociability had become almost proverbial.

"If it were not, my dear," she said one day to Virginia, when they were
having tea together in her own more modest apartment, "that I firmly
believe your uncle incapable of any affection for any one, we should all
have to believe that he had lost his heart to you."

Virginia, who had heard other remarks of the same nature, looked
puzzled.

"I cannot see," she exclaimed, "why every one speaks of my uncle as a
heartless person. I do not think that I ever met any one more kind, and
he looks it, too. I do not think that I ever saw any one with such a
benevolent face."

Mrs. Trevor Harrison laughed softly as she rocked herself in her chair.

"Dear child," she said, "New York has known your uncle for twenty-five
years, and suffered for him. These men who make great fortunes must make
them at the expense of other people, and there are very many who have