“You don’t look as if you’d been eating the right kind of things, Enoch,” she said, kindly.  “And it’s cigarettes that give your lips that bad color.  You must let me help you about that.  When do you start, John dear?”

“To-morrow night, and I’m afraid I’ll be gone the best part of three weeks.  By that time, I ought to know something about Enoch, eh?”

For the first time Enoch grinned, a little sheepishly, to be sure, and a little cynically.  Nevertheless it was the first sign of tolerance he had shown and Mr. Seaton was cheered by it.

“That will give time to get Enoch outfitted,” said Mary.  “We’ll go up to Best’s to-morrow morning.”

“This suit is new,” said Nucky.

“It looks new,” agreed Mrs. Seaton, “but a pronounced check like that isn’t nice for traveling.  And you’ll need other things.”

“I got plenty of clothes at home, and I paid for ’em myself,” Nucky’s voice was resentful.

“Well, drop a line to that Italian you’ve been living with, and tell him—­” began Mr. Seaton.

“Aw, he’ll be doin’ time in Sing Sing by the time I get back,” interrupted Nucky, “and he can’t read anyhow.  I always ’tended to everything but going to the bank for him.”

“Did you really?” There was a pleasant note of admiration in Mrs. Seaton’s voice.  “You must try to look out for Mr. Seaton then on this trip.  He is so absent-minded!  Come and I’ll show you your room, Enoch.  You must get ready for dinner.”

She rose, and led the boy down the hall to a small room.  It was furnished in oak and chintz.  Enoch thought it must have been the dead boy’s room for there was a gun over the bureau and photographs of a football team and a college crew on the walls.

“Supper will be ready in ten or fifteen minutes,” said Mrs. Seaton, as she left him.  A moment later, he heard her speaking earnestly in the living-room.  He brushed his hair, then amused himself by examining the contents of the room.  The supper bell rang just as he opened the closet door.  He closed it, hastily and silently, and a moment later, Mr. Seaton spoke from the hall: 

“Come, Enoch!” and the boy followed into the dining-room.

His table manners were bad, of course, but Mrs. Seaton found these less difficult to endure than the boy’s unresponsive, watchful ways.  At last, as the pudding was being served, she exclaimed: 

“What in the world are you watching for, Enoch?  Do you expect us to rob you, or what?”

“I dunno, ma’am,” answered Nucky,

“Do you enjoy your supper?” asked Mrs. Seaton.

“It’s all right, I guess.  I’m used to wine with my supper.”

“Wine, you young jack-donkey!” cried John Seaton.  “And don’t you appreciate the difference between a home meal like this and one you pick up in Minetta Lane?”

“I dunno!” Nucky’s face darkened sullenly and he pushed his pudding away.