“But what’s the good of a fortune if you don’t enjoy it?” I said, thinking of the dreary house in Varick-street.

“No good,” he said.  “It isn’t in my nature to be satisfied with the knowledge that I’ve got enough to make me happy locked up somewhere in a safe:  I must get it out, and strew it around in sight in the shape of horses, pictures, nice rooms, and good things to eat, before I can make up my mind that the money is good for anything.  Now as to Richard, he is just the other way:  old head on young shoulders, old pockets in young breeches (only there ar’nt any holes in them).  He’s a model of prudence, is my brother Richard. Qui garde son diner, il a mieux a souper.  He’ll be a rich man one of these fine days.  I look to him to keep me out of jail.  You know Richard very well, I believe?” he said, turning a sudden look on me, which would have been very disconcerting to an older person, or one more acquainted with the world.

“O, very well indeed,” I said with great simplicity.  “You know he is such a favorite with my uncle, and he is a great deal at the house.”

“Well he may be a favorite, for he is built exactly on his model; at seventy, if I am not hung for debt before I reach it, I shall look to see him just a second Mr. Leonard Greer.”

I made a gesture of dissent.  “I don’t think he is in the least like Uncle Leonard, and I don’t think he cares at all for money.”

“O, Miss Pauline, don’t you believe him if he says he doesn’t.  I’m his younger brother, whom he has lectured and been hard on for these twenty-seven years, and I know more about it than anybody else.”

“Why, is Mr. Richard Vandermarck twenty-seven years old?” I said with much surprise.

“Twenty-nine his next birthday, and I am twenty-seven.  Why, did he pass himself off for younger?  That’s an excellent thing against him.”

“No; he did not pass himself off for anything in the matter of age.  It was only my idea about him.  I thought he was not more than twenty-five, perhaps even younger than that.  But then I had nobody but Uncle Leonard to compare him with, and it isn’t strange that I didn’t get quite right.”

“It is something of a step from Mr. Greer to Richard, I must say.  Mr.
Greer seems so much the oldest man in the world, and Richard—­well,
Richard isn’t that, but he is a good deal older than he ought to be. 
But do you tell me, Miss Pauline, you havn’t any younger fellows than
Richard on your cards?  Do they keep you as quiet as all that in
Varick-street?”

I knew by intuition this was impertinence, and no doubt I looked annoyed, and Mr. Vandermarck hastened to obliterate the impression by a very rapid movement upon the scenery, the beauties of the river, and many things as novel.

The three hours of our sail passed away pleasantly.  Mr. Vandermarck did not move from his seat; did not even read his paper, though I gave him an opportunity by turning over the leaves of my “Littel” on the occurrence of every pause.