Callao banker two years ago, and he was really the missing owner of the
portmanteau, would she know where he was now? It might make an opening
for conversation if he ever met her familiarly, but nothing more. Yet
I am afraid another idea occasionally took possession of Randolph's
romantic fancy. It was pleasant to think that the patron of his own
fortunes might be in some mysterious way the custodian of hers. The
money was placed to her credit--a liberal sum for a girl so young. The
large house in which she lived was sufficient to prove to the optimistic
Randolph that this income was something personal and distinct from her
family. That his unknown benefactor was in the habit of mysteriously
rewarding deserving merit after the fashion of a marine fairy godmother,
I fear did not strike him as being ridiculous.

But an unfortunate query in that direction, addressed to a cynical
fellow clerk, who had the exhaustive experience with the immature
mustaches of twenty-three, elicited a reply which shocked him. To his
indignant protest the young man continued:--

"Look here; a girl like that who draws money regularly from some man
who doesn't show up by name, who comes for it herself, and hasn't any
address, and calls herself 'Avondale'--only an innocent from Dutch Flat,
like you, would swallow."

"Impossible," said Randolph indignantly. "Anybody could see she's a lady
by her dress and bearing."

"Dress and bearing!" echoed the clerk, with the derision of blase youth.
"If that's your test, you ought to see Florry ----."

But here one may safely leave the young gentleman as abruptly as