"Well, you are an odd man. I'll not dispute that. What you will do at
any given time I'll not try to prophesy."

The twain separate. However, of any two men in Chicago, perhaps David
Lockwin and Dr. Tarpion are most agreeable to each other. From boyhood
they have been familiar. If one has said to the other, "Do that!" it
has been done.

"I fear you cannot be spared from your other guests, Esther," says
Lockwin.

"I fear you are trying to escape to that dear doctor of yours. Now,
are you not?"

"No. I have been with him for half an hour already. Esther, you are a
fine-looking woman. Upon my honor, now--"

She will not tolerate it, yet she never looked so pleased before.

"Tell me," she says, "of your little boy."

"Of my foundling?"

"Yes, I love to hear you speak of him."

"Well, Esther, the truest thing I have heard of my boy was said by old
Richard Tarbelle. He stopped me the other day. You know our houses
adjoin. 'Mr. Lockwin,' said he, as he came home with his basket--he
goes to his son's hotel each day for family stores--'I often say to