“Yes, I do,” nodded Selwyn; “but I can’t afford one yet”—­his face darkened—­“not for a while; but,” and his features cleared, “I’m delighted, old fellow, that you have one.  This certainly is a jolly little kennel—­you can fix it up in splendid shape—­rugs and mahogany and what-nots and ding-dongs—­and a couple of tabby cats and a good dog—­”

“Isn’t it fascinating!” cried Boots.  “Phil, all this real estate is mine!  And the idea makes me silly-headed.  I’ve been sitting on this pile of rugs pretending that I’m in the midst of vast and expensive improvements and alterations; and estimating the cost of them has frightened me half to death.  I tell you I never had such fun, Phil.  Come on; we’ll start at the cellar—­there is some coal and wood and some wonderful cobwebs down there—­and then we’ll take in the back yard; I mean to have no end of a garden out there, and real clothes-dryers and some wistaria and sparrows—­just like real back yards.  I want to hear cats make harrowing music on my own back fence; I want to see a tidy laundress pinning up intimate and indescribable garments on my own clothes-lines; I want to have maddening trouble with plumbers and roofers; I want to—­”

“Come on, then, for Heaven’s sake!” said Selwyn, laughing; and the two men, arm in arm, began a minute tour of the house.

“Isn’t it a corker!  Isn’t it fine!” repeated Lansing every few minutes.  “I wouldn’t exchange it for any mansion on Fifth Avenue!”

“You’d be a fool to,” agreed Selwyn gravely.

“Certainly I would.  Anyway, prices are going up like rockets in this section—­not that I’d think of selling out at any price—­but it’s comfortable to know it.  Why, a real-estate man told me—­Hello!  What was that?  Something fell somewhere!”

“A section of the bath-room ceiling, I think,” said Selwyn; “we mustn’t step too heavily on the floors at first, you know.”

“Oh, I’m going to have the entire thing done over—­room by room—­when I can afford it.  Meanwhile j’y suis, j’y reste. . . .  Look there, Phil!  That’s to be your room.”

“Thanks, old fellow—­not now.”

“Why, yes!  I expected you’d have your room here, Phil—­”

“It’s very good of you, Boots, but I can’t do it.”

Lansing faced him:  “Won’t you?”

Selwyn, smiling, shook his head; and the other knew it was final.

“Well, the room will be there—­furnished the way you and I like it.  When you want it, make smoke signals or wig-wag.”

“I will; thank you, Boots.”

Lansing said unaffectedly, “How soon do you think you can afford a house like this?”

“I don’t know; you see, I’ve only my income now—­”

“Plus what you make at the office—­”

“I’ve left Neergard.”

“What!”

“This morning; for good.”

“The deuce!” he murmured, looking at Selwyn; but the latter volunteered no further information, and Lansing, having given him the chance, cheerfully switched to the other track: