papers. Next, he resigns and goes abroad without a word or coming to
see us. I don't know what to make of Bobby; I really don't."

I took her hand in mine and kissed it, and told her the rascal would
turn up in due time, that they hadn't heard the last of him for that
winter.

"He's only thoughtless and single-purposed," interposed Jack.

"Single-purposed!" I echoed.

"Why, yes. He gets one thing at a time in his brain, and thinks of
nothing else till that idea is worn out. I know him."

I recalled my useless persuasion of the morning. "I believe you are
right."

"Of course I'm right," replied Jack, turning a page of his paper. "Do
_you_ know where he has gone?"

"I think the telegram explains everything,"--evasively.

"Humph! Don't you worry about him, Nan. I'll wager he's up to some of
his old-time deviltry."

These and other little observations Jack let fall made it plain to me
that he was a natural student of men and their impulses, and that his
insight and judgment, unerring and anticipatory, had put him where he
is to-day, at the head of a department.