Nucky said nothing.  His unboyish eyes traveled from one face to another, then he shrugged his shoulders and dropped his weight to the other hip.  John Seaton, whose eyes were still smoldering, tapped Nucky on the arm.

“All right, Enoch!  I’m going to take you up to my house to meet Mrs. Seaton.  See that you behave like a gentleman,” and he led the way into the street.  Nucky followed without any outward show of emotion.  His new guardian did not speak until they reached the door of the apartment house, then he turned and looked the boy in the eye.

“I’m obstinate, Enoch, and quick tempered.  No one but Mrs. Seaton thinks of me as a particularly likable chap.  You can do as you please about liking me, but I want you to like my wife.  And if I have any reason to think you’ve been anything but courteous to her, I’ll break every bone in your body.  You say you don’t want sob stuff.  You’ll get none of it from me.”

Not a muscle of Nucky’s face quivered.  Mr. Seaton did not wait for a reply, but led the way into the elevator.  It shot up to the top floor and Nucky followed into the long, dark hall of the apartment.

“Put your hat and coat here,” said his guardian, indicating the hat rack on which he was hanging his own overcoat.  “Now follow me.”  He led the boy into the living room.

A small woman sat by the window that overlooked the Square.  Her brown hair was just touched with gray.  Her small round face was a little faded, with faint lines around eyes and lips.  It was not an intellectual face, but it was sweet and patient, from the delicate curve of the lips to the slight downward droop of the eyebrows above the clear blue eyes.  All the sweetness and patience was there with which the wives of high tempered, obstinate men are not infrequently blessed.

“Mary, this is young Enoch Huntingdon,” said Seaton.

Mrs. Seaton offered her hand, which Nucky took awkwardly and unsmilingly.  “How do you do, Enoch!  Mr. Seaton told me about your red hair and your fine old name.  Are you going to stay with us a little while?”

“I don’t know, ma’am,” replied Enoch.

“Sit down, Enoch!  Sit down!” Seaton waved Enoch impatiently toward a seat while he took the arm chair beside his wife.  “Mary, I’ve got to take that trip to San Francisco, after all.  Houghton and Company insist on my looking into that Jameson law-suit for them.”

Mary Seaton looked up, a little aghast.  “But mercy, John!  I can’t get away now, with Sister Alice coming!”

“I know that.  So I’m going to take Enoch with me.”

“Oh!” Mary looked from her husband to Enoch, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the Chippendale chair.  His usually pale face was a little flushed and his thin lips were set firmly together.  From her scrutiny of Enoch’s face, she turned to his hands.  They were large and bony and the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand were yellow.