“What do you know about that man?”

“Gordon Keith!” exclaimed the younger man, in surprise.  “Is he in New York, and I have not seen him!  Why, I know all about him.  He used to be an old friend of mine.  We were boys together ever so long ago.”

He went on to speak warmly of him.

“Well, that was long ago,” said Mr. Creamer, doubtfully.  “Many things have happened in that time.  He has had time to change.”

“He must have changed a good deal if he is not straight,” declared Norman.  “I wonder why he has not been to see me?”

“Well, I’ll tell you what he said,” began Mr. Creamer.

He gave Keith’s explanation.

“Did he say that?  Then it’s true.  You ought to know his father.  He is a regular old Don Quixote.”

“The Don was not particularly practical.  He would not have done much with coal and iron lands,” observed the banker.  “What do you know about this man’s knowledge of such things?”

Norman admitted that on this point he had no information.

“He says he knows Wickersham—­your friend,” said Mr. Creamer, with a sly look at Norman.

“Yes, I expect he does—­if any one knows him.  He used to know him.  What does he say of him?”

“Oh, I think he knows him.  Well, I am much obliged to you for coming around,” he said in a tone of dismissal.  “You are coming to dine with us soon, I believe?  The Lancasters are coming, too.  And we expect Rhodes home.  He’s due next week.”

“One member of your family will be glad to see him,” said Norman, smiling.  “The wedding is to take place in a few weeks, I believe?”

“I hear so,” said the father.  “Fine young man, Rhodes?  Your cousin, isn’t he?  Been very successful?”

“Yes.”

Once, as Keith passed along down Broadway, just where some of the great shops were at that time, before the tide had rolled so far up-town, a handsome carriage and pair drew up in front of one of the big shops, and a lady stepped from it just behind him.  She was a very pretty young woman, and richly dressed.  A straight back and a well-set head, with a perfect toilet, gave her distinction even among the handsomely appointed women who thronged the street that sunny morning, and many a woman turned and looked at her with approval or envy.

The years, that had wrought Keith from a plain country lad into a man of affairs of such standing in New Leeds that a shrewd operator like Rawson had selected him for his representative, had also wrought a great change in Alice Lancaster.  Alice had missed what she had once begun to expect, romance and all that it meant; but she had filled with dignity the place she had chosen.  If Mr. Lancaster’s absorption in serious concerns left her life more sombre than she had expected, at least she let no one know it.  Association with a man like Mr. Lancaster had steadied and elevated her.  His high-mindedness had lifted her above the level of her worldly mother and of many of those who constituted the set in which she lived.