“I do not believe he ever once thought of the propriety or necessity of repairing and refitting.  His mind is quite absorbed in his new and vast speculations.  He spent every day down in Wall Street while we stayed in New York city.”

“Well, Corona, this is the twenty-eighth of June, and we have four days before us; for I do not suppose the newly married pair will arrive before the evening of the first of July; so we must do the best we can, my dear, to make the house pleasant in this short time.”

“And Uncle Fabian and his wife will be at Rockhold about the same time,” added Cora.

“I knew Fabian would be at North End on the first of July, but I did not know that he would go on to Rockhold.  I thought he would go on to their new house.  So we shall have two brides to welcome, instead of one.”

“Yes.  And now, Uncle Clarence, will you please ring for a chambermaid?  I must go to a bed room and get some of this railroad dust out of my eyes,” said Cora.

At nine o’clock in the very warm evening, the three were sitting near the open windows, when they started at the sound of a hearty, genial voice in the adjoining room, inquiring for accommodations for the night.

“It is Fabian!” cried Mr. Clarence, springing up in joy and rushing out of the room to welcome his only and much beloved brother.

The glad voices of the two brothers in greeting reached their ears, and a moment after the door was thrown open again, and Mr. Clarence entered, conducting Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt.

As soon as they found themselves alone, the two brothers took convenient seats to have a talk.

“How goes on the works, Clarence?” inquired Mr. Fabian.

“Very prosperously.  You will go through them to-morrow and see for yourself.”

“And how goes on the great scheme?”

“Even better than the works.  Last reports shares selling at one hundred and thirty.”

“Same over yonder.  When I left Amsterdam shares selling like hot cakes at a hundred and thirty-one seventenths.  How is the governor?” inquired Mr. Fabian.

“As flourishing as a successful financier and septuagenarian bridegroom can be.”

“Why!—­what do you mean?”

“Haven’t you heard the news?”

“What is it?  You—­you don’t mean—­”

“Has our father written nothing to you of a very important and utterly unexpected act of his life?”

“No.”

“I advised him to marry—­”

“You!  You!  Fabian!  You advised our father to do such an absurd thing at his age?”

“I confess I don’t see the absurdity of it,” quietly replied the elder brother.

“Oh, why did you counsel him to such an act?” inquired Mr. Clarence, more in sorrow than in anger.

“Out of pure good nature.  I was getting married myself and wanted everybody to be as happy as I was myself, particularly my old father.  Now I wonder he did not write to me of his happiness; but perhaps he has done so and the letter passed me on the sea.  When did this marriage take place?”