Not a muscle of Nucky's face quivered. Mr. Seaton did not wait for a
reply, but led the way into the elevator. It shot up to the top floor
and Nucky followed into the long, dark hall of the apartment.

"Put your hat and coat here," said his guardian, indicating the hat
rack on which he was hanging his own overcoat. "Now follow me." He
led the boy into the living room.

A small woman sat by the window that overlooked the Square. Her brown
hair was just touched with gray. Her small round face was a little
faded, with faint lines around eyes and lips. It was not an
intellectual face, but it was sweet and patient, from the delicate
curve of the lips to the slight downward droop of the eyebrows above
the clear blue eyes. All the sweetness and patience was there with
which the wives of high tempered, obstinate men are not infrequently
blessed.

"Mary, this is young Enoch Huntingdon," said Seaton.

Mrs. Seaton offered her hand, which Nucky took awkwardly and
unsmilingly. "How do you do, Enoch! Mr. Seaton told me about your red
hair and your fine old name. Are you going to stay with us a little
while?"

"I don't know, ma'am," replied Enoch.

"Sit down, Enoch! Sit down!" Seaton waved Enoch impatiently toward a
seat while he took the arm chair beside his wife. "Mary, I've got to
take that trip to San Francisco, after all. Houghton and Company