about his own experiences in the Rockies, to which the girl listened with genuine interest.  Mr. Harrison’s father, so he told her, had been a station-agent of a little town in one of the wildest portions of the mountains; he himself had begun as a railroad surveyor, and had risen step by step by constant exertion and watchfulness.  It was a story of a self-made man, such as Helen had vowed to her aunt she could not bear to listen to; yet she did not find it disagreeable just then.  There was an exciting story of a race with a rival road, to secure the right to the best route across the mountains; Helen found it quite as exciting as music, and said so.

“Perhaps it is a kind of music,” said Mr. Harrison, laughing; “it is the only kind I have cared anything about, excepting yours.”

“I had no idea people had to work so hard in the world,” said Helen, dodging the compliment.

“They do, unless they have someone else to do it for them,” said the other.  “It is a, fierce race, nowadays, and a man has to watch and think every minute of the time.  But it is glorious to triumph.”

Helen found herself already a little more in a position to realize what ten million dollars amounted to, and very much more respectful and awe-stricken in her relation to them.  She was sufficiently oblivious to the flight of time to be quite surprised when she gazed about her, and discovered that they were within a couple of miles of home.  “I had no idea of how quickly we were going,” she said.

“You are not tired, then?” asked the other.

“No indeed,” Helen answered, “I enjoyed it ever so much.”

“We might drive farther,” said Mr. Harrison; “these horses are hardly waked up.”

He reined them in a little and glanced at his watch.  “It’s just eleven,” he said, “I think there’d be time,” and he turned to her with a smile.  “Would you like to have an adventure?” he asked.

“I generally do,” replied the girl.  “What is it?”

“I was thinking of a drive,” said the other; “one that we could just about take and return by lunch-time; it is about ten miles from here.”

“What is it?” asked Helen.

“I have just bought a country place near here,” said Mr. Harrison.  “I thought perhaps you would like to see it.”

“My aunt spoke of it,” Helen answered; “the Eversons’ old home.”

“Yes,” said the other; “you know it, then?”

“I only saw it once in my life, when I was a very little girl,” Helen replied, “and so I have only a dim recollection of its magnificence; the old man who lived there never saw any company.”

“It had to be sold because he failed in business,” said Mr. Harrison.  “Would you like to drive over?”

“Very much,” said Helen, and a minute later, when they came to a fork in the road, they took the one which led them to “Fairview,” as the place was called.

“I think it a tremendously fine property myself,” said Mr. Harrison; “I made up my mind to have it the first time I saw it.  I haven’t seen anything around here to equal it, and I hope to make a real English country-seat out of it.  I’ll tell you about what I want to do when we get there, and you can give me your advice; a man never has good taste, you know.”