"Who is she? Where'd she come from?" demanded Barry.

"From New York. Her father died last year, in Washington, I think
she said, and she wants to live quietly somewhere with the children.
Barry, will you be an angel?"

"Eventually, I hope to," said Mr. Valentine, grinning, but she did
not hear him.

"Could you, WOULD you, take her over the place this afternoon,
Barry? She seems sure she wants it, and George feels he must get
back to the office to see Tilden. You know he's going to sign for a
whole floor of the Pratt Building to-day. George can't keep Tilden
waiting, and it won't be a bit hard for you, Barry. George says to
promise her anything. She just wants to see about bathrooms, and so
on. Will you, Barry?"

"Sure I will," said the obliging Barry. And when Mrs. Carew asked
him if he would like to go upstairs and brush up a little, he
accepted the delicate reflection upon the state of his hair and
hands, and said "sure" again.




CHAPTER III

Mrs. Burgoyne was a sweet-faced, fresh-looking woman about thirty-
two or-three years old, with a quick smile, like a child's, and blue
eyes, set far apart, with a little lift at the corners, that, under