for the home comforts which they found there.  Alice was full of her new business responsibilities and eager to assume charge of her “department”; Mrs. Gorham, restored to her home city and her early friends by her present marriage, looked forward to an enjoyable “season”; Patricia and her beloved pony were reunited; and Gorham himself, flushed with the continuing success of his gigantic enterprise, plunged more deeply than ever into its manifold transactions.

The remaining member of the family—­for such he always considered himself—­was old Riley.  Servants might come and servants might go, but Riley the faithful was always to be found in his appointed place, occupied by his appointed task.  New York was the only home he recognized, since, in addition to being “Misther Robert’s” place of residence, it also connected him with the one tie in life beyond his devotion to his master and his master’s family.  This was an only son who had risen by degrees to be a pressman in a local printing-office and, which was more to the point, had become a political power in his particular ward.  Riley’s interest in his son was far greater than any reciprocal sentiment manifested by the younger man.  Occasionally the father ventured to look up his famous offspring, but was always received with a patronizing indulgence; and when he returned to his own insignificant duties, it was with a sense of gratitude for the reflected greatness.

After one of these rare treats, every member of the family could read in Riley’s face the degree of cordiality with which the old man had been received; so when, one afternoon a few weeks after their return to New York, he lingered after giving Mrs. Gorham the evening paper in the garden, she noted the expression of expectancy and turned from her conversation with Alice to gratify his unspoken desire to be questioned.  As a matter of fact, Eleanor had reproached herself for complaining of Riley to Mr. Gorham, and this was an opportunity to make amends.

“You haven’t told us about your call on James last night, Riley.  How did you find him?”

“Fine, ma’m, fine,” he replied, straightening up as he realized that his opportunity had arrived.  “Jimmie is th’ great man, ma’m, if I do say it as hadn’t orter.”

“Splendid, Riley!” exclaimed Eleanor, glancing at Alice with amusement.  “It is a fine thing to have our children do us credit.  What new honor has come to James ?”

“I don’t know where he gits it, ma’m, tho’ his mother was a smart woman, but he’s th’ clever la-ad, ma’m; indade he is.”

“Do tell us about it, Riley,” Alice added, entering into Eleanor’s spirit; “we are all impatience.”

“He’s th’ clever la-ad,” Riley repeated, still rolling the sweet morsel under his tongue.  “He’s th’ comin’ man in New York politics, I’m thinkin’,” he mused.  “Mebbe he’ll be an aldherman yit.  Wan iv his ancistors in th’ ol’ counthry was a game warden wanst—­mebbe Jimmie will be an aldherman yit.”