“I think it is very good to belong to your kind, where-ever they are, Miss Sylvie.  Tell your mother I say she may be glad of her daughter.  I’ll find out about the house for you, at any rate.  And I’ll see Mr. Cardwell; and I’ll call again.  Good-night, my dear.  God bless you!”

And the grand Mr. Howland Sherrett pressed Sylvie Argenter’s hand in both of his, as a father might have pressed it, and went out with the feeling of a warm rush from his heart toward his eyes.

“That’s a girl like a—­whatever there is that means the noblest sort of woman, and I’m not sure it is a queen!” he said to Rodney, as he seated himself in the chaise, and took the reins from his son’s hands.

Mr. Sherrett was apt to say to Rodney, “You may drive me to this or that place,” but he was very apt, also, to do the driving himself, after all; especially if he was somewhat preoccupied, and forgot, as he did now.

The way Mr. Howland Sherrett inquired about the red-roofed house, was this: 

He went down to Mr. John Horner’s store, in Opal Street, and asked him what was the rent of it.

“Six hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Rather high, isn’t it, for the situation?”

“Not for the situation of the land, I guess,” said Mr. Horner.  “I’m paying annexation taxes.”

“What will you sell the property for as it stands?”

“Eighty-five hundred dollars.”

“I’ll give you eight thousand, Mr. Horner, in cash, upon condition that you will not mention its having changed hands.  I have some friends whom I wish should live there,” he added, lest some deep speculating move should be surmised.

Mr. Horner thought for the space of thirty seconds, after the rapid, Opal Street fashion, and said,—­

“You may have it.  When will you take the deed?”

“To-morrow morning, at eleven o’clock.  Will that be convenient?”

“All right.  Yes, sir.”

And the next morning at eleven o’clock, the two gentlemen exchanged papers; Mr. Horner received a check on the First National Bank for eight thousand dollars, and Mr. Sherrett the title-deed to house and land on North Centre Street, Dorbury, known as part of the John Horner estate, and bordering so and so, and so on.

The same afternoon, Mr. Sherrett called at Mrs. Argenter’s, and told her of the quiet, pleasant, retired, yet central house and garden in Upper Dorbury, which he found she could have on a lease of two or three years, for a rent of three hundred and fifty dollars.  It was in the hands of a lawyer in the village, who would make out the lease and receive the payments.  He had inquired it out, and would conclude the arrangements for her, if she desired.

“I don’t know that I desire anything, Mr. Sherrett.  I suppose I must do what I can, since it seems I am not to be left in my own home which I put my own money into.  If it appears suitable to you, I have no doubt it is right.  I am very much obliged to you, I am sure.  Sylvie knows the house, and has an idea she likes it.  She is childish, and likes changing.  She will have enough of it, I am afraid.”