The Market-Place

all events, he saw no one in either the hall or the glass vestibule, as he wandered about. Both doors were wide open, however, to the mil

me for him in these latter days of anxiety-had been this morning a peculiarly depressing affair. It had seemed to him, in the first minutes of reviving consciousness, that he was a

to demonstrate that they had been cut down to a minimum-that it was nonsense to borrow trouble about them. He reviewed the situation in painstaking detail, and at every point it was all right, or as nearly all

handsome, buoyant, light-hearted, and, withal, the best-groomed man in London. And this ancestral home of his-or of his mother's, since he seemed to insist upon the distinction-where were its signs of a stinted income? The place was overrun with servants. There was a horse which covered a distance of something like two miles in

pacious, but the sleek decorum of their arrangement, while it pleased him, was scarcely interesting. He liked better to study the ho

ent occupants from its original builders. It had been planned and reared as a home for gentle people, at some not-too-remote date when it was already possible for gentle people to have homes, without fighting to defend them. One could fancy that its calm and infinitely comfortable history had never been ruffled from that day to this. He recalled having heard it mentioned the previous evening that the house stood upon the site of an old monastery. No doubt that accounted for its being built in a hollow, with the ground-floor on the absolute level of the earth outside. The monks had always chosen these low-lying sheltered spots for their cloister

d minister to his own individual culture. The thought took instant hold upon his interest. By that road, his progress to the goal of gentility would be smooth and simple. He seemed not to have reason

erfect equality, so far as he saw, with the sons of aristocratic families or of great City potentates. And as to birth, he had behind

hed collector, under the very nose of his hot rival, the Duke of Marlborough, was tenderly cherished as an heirloom in the old shop. And Thorpe's father, too, though no such single achievement crowned hi

d to the fact, in the course of domestic discussions. Who the Stormonts were he could not recall that he had ever learned, but his mother had been very clear indeed about their superiority to the usual ruck of people. He would ask his sister whether she

d so long, had been well enough for the term of his exile-the weary time of obscure toil and suspense. But now, in this sunburst of smiling fortune, when he had achieved the right to a name of distinction-here it was ready to his hand. A fleeting que

ed, in momentary doubt which course to take, the sound of hoofs in the avenue caught his ear, and he stood still. In a moment there came into view, round a curve in the leafy distance, two horses with riders, advancing at a brisk cant

tion of their ride. Even the Hon. Winifred looked comely and distinguished in his eyes, under the charm of this heightened vivacity. She

, erect, exquisitely-tailored, she had gone by like some queen in a pageant, gracious yet unapproachable. He stared after her, mutely bewildered at the effect she produced upon him-until he saw that a groom had run from the stable-yard, and was helping the divinity to dismount. The angry thought that

the lion's share of the talk-and they had appeared as frankly entertained as the others. In fact, when he recalled the circle of faces to which he had addressed his monologue of reminiscences-curiou

ine at dinner had given him a spurious courage occurred to him. He shrugged his

re are buildings of the same pale yellowish brick as the mansion itself, but quaintly differing one from another in design and size. Stables, carriage-houses, kennels, a laundry, a brewery, and half a dozen structures the intention of which is

s the oak itself. Here servants have lived, it may be, since man first learned the trick of setting his foot on his brother's neck. Plainly enough, the monks' servants lived and worked here; half the buildings on the side nearest the house belong to their time, and one of them still bears a partially-defaced coat of arms that must have belonged t

ch drained the stables, and glistened with expensive smartness now beneath the sponge of one of the hostlers. Under cover, he discerned two other carriages, and there seemed to be at least half a dozen

outhern side of the mansion, attracted his listless fancy, and he walked toward what appeared to be an entrance to them. The door was locked, but he found another further on which opened to his hand. The air was very hot and moist inside, and the place was so filled with broad-leaved, umbrageous tropic

n o'clock, and he was getting very hungry. Would they not ring a bell, or sound a gong, or something? he wondered. Perhaps there had been some such summons, and he had not he

dly was Gafferson. What on earth was he doing here? Thorpe gave but brief consideration to this problem. It was of more immediate importance to recall the circumstances of his contact with the man. He had made Gafferson's poor shanty of an hotel his headquarters for the better part of a month-the base of supplies from which he made numerous prospecting tours into the mountains of the interior. Had he paid his bill on leaving? Yes, there was no doubt

e newcomer pass with no sign of a gesture toward his cap. Thorpe halted, an

entative tone of one who is in no need o

Some people put 'em on their sides, but I like 'em upright, cl

thought that he liked it-and then was not so sure. He perceived that there was no recognition of him. The gardener, as further desultory conversation about his wor

the other's stare of puzzled enquiry, he went on: "You're Gafferson, aren't you? I thought so. When

bered my name. I suppose it was because of the Gaffersoniana hybrids. There was a good bit in the papers about them last spring." Thorpe nodded an assent which it seemed better not to put into words. "Well, it beats all," he mused aloud. "Why, man, there's gold in those mountains! You had an inside track on

mber me? My name's Thorpe. I had a beard then. Why, man, you and one of your niggers were with me three or four days once, up on the ridge beyond the Burnt Hills-why, you remember, the nigger was from San Domingo, and he was forever bragging about the San Domingo pepper

tted, finally. "I shouldn't have known you though. I'm the worst in the world about remembering people. It seems to be growing on me. I notice that when I go up to London to the shows, I

y good in trying to get back, but I wasn't making more than a bare living when you were there, and after that I didn't even do that much. It took me a good many years to find out what my real fancy was. I hated my hotel and my store, but I was crazy about my garden. Finally an American gentleman came along one day, and he put up at my place, and he saw that I was as

gland, and since then I've worked my way up here, till now I take a Royal Horticultural medal regular, and there's a clematis w

orpe. "What time do th

taken on a mild glow of animation during his narrative. I

But if you want to see his Lordship," he went on,

n impatient grin. "Why I'm a guest here in

arp glance failed to detect any trace of offensive intention in his companion's fatuous visage. Yet it seemed

place here, and kept urging me to come, and so finally I've got away over Sunday to oblige him. By the way-I shall buy an estate in the country as soon as the right thing offers, and I shall want to set up

dener replied, sententiously. He turned to

d so clumsily failed to rise to the situation. The bitter thought of going back and giving him a half-crown rose in Thorpe's inventive mind, and he paused for an instant, his hand on the door-knob, to think it over. The gratuity would certainly put Gafferson in his place, but then the spirit in which it was offered would be wholly lost on hi

s with novel music. He looked and saw that a white-capped, neatly-clad domestic, standing with her back to him beside the newel-post of the stairs, was beating out the tune with

girl as she turned. "That's the kind of concert I like," he declared, bestowing the patronage of a jovial s

the plant he had taken up. "Thorpe," he said aloud, as if addressing the tabid gloxinia-"Thorpe-yes-I re