"You're to be my guests for a month or two, until you get your
bearings."

"That's very good of you," said the other; "--we'll talk about it
later. But meantime, tell me what the apartment costs."

And then Montague encountered his first full charge of New York
dynamite. "Six hundred dollars a week," said Oliver.

He started as if his brother had struck him. "Six hundred dollars a
week!" he gasped.

"Yes," said the other, quietly.

It was fully a minute before he could find his breath. "Brother," he
exclaimed, "you're mad!"

"It is a very good bargain," smiled the other; "I have some
influence with them."

Again there was a pause, while Montague groped for words. "Oliver,"
he exclaimed, "I can't believe you! How could you think that we
could pay such a price?"

"I didn't think it," said Oliver; "I told you I expected to pay it
myself."

"But how could we let you pay it for us?" cried the other. "Can you
fancy that _I_ will ever earn enough to pay such a price?"