Mrs. Belcher detected the spice of pique and jealousy in this charitable speech, and said very little in response—­nothing that a mischief-maker could torture into an offense.

Having worked her private pump until the well whose waters she sought refused to give up its treasures, Mrs. Talbot declared she would no longer embarrass the new house-keeping by her presence.  She had only called to bid Mrs. Belcher welcome, and to assure her that if she had no friends in the city, there were hundreds of hospitable hearts that were ready to greet her.  Then she and her husband went out, waved their adieus from their snug little coupe, and drove away.

The call had diverted Mr. Belcher from his somber thoughts, and he summoned his carriage, and drove down town, where he spent his day in securing the revolution in his domestic service, already alluded to, in talking business with his factor, and in making acquaintances on ’Change.

“I’m going to be in the middle of this thing, one of those days,” said he to Talbot as they strolled back to the counting-room of the latter, after a long walk among the brokers and bankers of Wall street.  “If anybody supposes that I’ve come here to lie still, they don’t know me.  They’ll wake up some fine morning and find a new hand at the bellows.”

Twilight found him at home again, where he had the supreme pleasure of turning his very independent servants out of his house into the street, and installing a set who knew, from the beginning, the kind of man they had to deal with, and conducted themselves accordingly.

While enjoying his first cigar after dinner, a note was handed to him, which he opened and read.  It was dated at the house across the avenue.  He had expected and dreaded it, but he did not shrink like a coward from its persual.  It read thus: 

“MR. ROBERT BELCHER:  I have been informed of the shameful manner in which you treated a member of my family this morning—­Master Harry Benedict.  The bullying of a small boy is not accounted a dignified business for a man in the city which I learn you have chosen for your home, however it may be regarded in the little town from which you came.  I do not propose to tolerate such conduct toward any dependent of mine.  I do not ask for your apology, for the explanation was in my hands before the outrage was committed.  I perfectly understand your relations to the lad, and trust that the time will come when the law will define them, so that the public will also understand them.  Meantime, you will consult your own safety by letting him alone, and never presuming to repeat the scene of this morning.

“Yours, JAMES BALFOUR,

“Counselor-at-Law.”

“Hum! ha!” exclaimed Mr. Belcher, compressing his lips, and spitefully tearing the letter into small strips and throwing them into the fire.  “Thank you, kind sir; I owe you one,” said he, rising, and walking his room. “That doesn’t look very much as if Paul Benedict were alive.  He’s a counselor-at-law, he is; and he has inveigled a boy into his keeping, who, he supposes, has a claim on me; and he proposes to make some money out of it.  Sharp game!”