The amazing characteristic about Thomas was his unaffected modesty, his naturalness, his eagerness to learn, his willingness to accept suggestions, no matter from what source.  Haberdashers’ clerks—­at least, those I have known—­are superior persons; they know it all, you can not tell them a single thing.  I can call to witness dozens of neckties and shirts I shall never dare wear in public.  But perhaps seven years among a clientele of earls and dukes, who were set in their ideas, had something to do with Thomas’ attitude.

Killigrew was very well satisfied with the venture.  He had had some doubts at the beginning:  a man whose past ended at Pier 60 did not look like a wise speculation, especially in a household.  But quite unconsciously Thomas himself had taken these doubts out of Killigrew’s mind and—­mislaid them.  The subscriptions to all the suffragette weeklies and monthlies were dropped; and there were no more banners reading “Votes for Women” tacked over the doorways.  Besides this, the merchant had a man to talk to, after dinner, he with his cigar and Thomas with his pipe, this privilege being insisted upon by the women folk, who had tact to leave the two men to themselves.

Thomas amused the millionaire.  Here was a young man of a species with whom he had not come into contact in many years:  a boy who did not know the first thing about poker, or bridge, or pinochle, who played outrageous billiards and who did not know who the latest reigning theatrical beauty was, and moreover, did not care a rap; who could understand a joke within reasonable time if he couldn’t tell one; who was neither a nincompoop nor a mollycoddle.  Thomas interested Killigrew more and more as the days went past.

Happily, the voice of conscience is heard by no ears but one’s own.

After luncheons Thomas had a good deal of time on his hands; and, to occupy this time he returned to his old love, composition.  He began to rewrite his romance; and one day Kitty discovered him pegging away at it.  He rose from his chair instantly.

“Will you be wanting me, Miss Killigrew?”

“Only to say that father will be detained down-town to-night and that you will be expected to take mother and me to the theater.  It is one of your English musical comedies; and very good, they say.”

Thomas had been dreading such a situation.  As yet there had been no entertaining at the Killigrew home; nearly all their friends were out of town for the summer; thus far he had escaped.

“I am sorry, Miss Killigrew, but I have no suitable clothes.”  Which was plain unvarnished truth.  “And I do not possess an opera-hat.”  And never did.

Kitty laughed pleasantly.  “We are very democratic in this house, as by this time you will have observed.  In the summer we do not dress; we take our amusements comfortably.  Ordinarily we would be at our summer home on Long Island; but delayed repairs will not let us into it till August.  Then we shall all take a vacation.  You will join us as you are; that is, of course, if you are not too busy with your own affairs.”