then, without warning, the clock struck in a deep, bronze-like tone, and with a vigorous movement, he sprang out of bed, flung his dressing-gown across his shoulders, and passed quickly to the cold plunge in his dressing-room.  When he reappeared there was a fresh, healthy glow in his face, and the smile with which he knotted his green figured necktie before the mirror, stuck his black pearl scarf pin carefully in place, and twisted the short ends of his brown moustache, was that of a man who begins his day in a blithe and friendly humour.

In the dining-room, which opened from his sitting-room next door, his breakfast was already awaiting him, and beside his plate he found several letters and the morning papers.  He read the letters first, but with a single exception they proved to be bills, and after glancing at these with a suspicious frown he tossed them aside and turned to the little square white envelope, which contained an invitation to dine from a woman whom he detested because she bored him with domestic complaints.  His heavy brows gathered darkly over his impatient gray eyes, and he pushed the mail carelessly away to make room for his coffee, to which his man was adding a precise amount of cream and sugar.

“Don’t let me forget to answer that, Wilkins,” he said, in an annoyed tone; “the response must be sent this afternoon, too, without fail.”

“I don’t think you wrote the notes you spoke of yesterday, sir,” observed Wilkins, with an English accent and a manner of respectful intimacy.

“Hang it all!  I don’t believe I did,” returned Kemper, as he drew his chair up to the table and tapped his egg shell.  “That comes of letting a thing you hate to do go over.  I say, Wilkins, if I attempt to leave this room before I’ve answered those letters, you’re to restrain me by force, do you hear?”

“Yes, sir; certainly, sir,” replied Wilkins, as he went out to bring in the toast.

Kemper laid his napkin across his knees, leaned comfortably back in his chair, and unfolded one of the morning papers beside his plate.  As he did so he expanded his lungs with a deep breath, while his glance travelled rapidly to the column which contained the day’s reports of the stock market.  He knew already that the Chericoke Valley Central in which he had invested had jumped thirty points and was still advancing, but he read the printed statements with the exhaustless interest with which a lover might return to a love letter he had already learned by heart.  His faith in the Chericoke Valley Central stock was strong, and he meant to keep a close grip on it for some time to come.