IN WHICH JOHNNY MEETS A DEFENDER OF THE OLD ARISTOCRACY

Johnny, whose sources of information were many and varied, called on a certain Miss Purry the very next morning, taking along Val Russel to introduce him.

“Any friend of Mr. Russel’s is welcome, I am sure,” declared Miss Purry, passing a clammy wedge of a hand to Johnny, who felt the chill in his palm creeping down his spine.  “Of the Maryland Gambles?”

“No, White Roads,” replied Johnny cheerfully.  Miss Purry’s chiseled smile remained, but it was not the same.  “I came to see you about that vacant building site, just beyond the adjoining property.”

Miss Purry shook her head,

“I’m afraid I could not even consider selling it without a very specific knowledge of its future.”  And her pale green eyes took on a slightly deeper hue.

Val Russel stifled a sly grin.

“This was once a very aristocratic neighborhood,” he informed Johnny with well-assumed sorrow.  “Miss Purry is the last of the fine old families to keep alive the traditions of the district.  Except for her influence, the new-rich have vulgarized the entire locality.”

“Thank you,” cooed Miss Purry.  “I could not have said that myself, but I can’t hinder Mr. Russel from saying it.  Nearly all of my neighbors tried to buy the riverview plot, about which you have come to see me; but I did not care to sell—­to them.”

Her emphasis on the last two words was almost imperceptible, but it was there; and her reminiscent satisfaction was so complete that Johnny, who had known few women, was perplexed.

“If all the old families had been as careful the Bend would not have deteriorated,” Val stated maliciously, knowing just how to encourage her.”  However, the new-comers are benefited by Miss Purry’s resolve--particularly Mrs. Slosher.  The Sloshers are just on the other side of the drive from the vacant property, and they have almost as good a river view as if they had been able to purchase it and build upon it in the first place.”

The green of Miss Purry’s eyes deepened another tone.

“Mr. Slosher, who is now in Europe, was almost brutal in his determination to purchase the property,” she stated with painful repression.  “The present Mrs. Slosher is a pretty doll, and he is childishly infatuated with her; but his millions can not buy everything she demands.”

Ignorant of social interplay as Johnny Gamble was, he somehow divined that William G. Slosher’s doll was the neighborhood reason for everything.

“If you were only certain of what you intend to build there—­” she suggested, to break the helpless silence.

“I have an apartment-house in mind,” he told her.

“That would be very large and very high, no doubt,” she guessed, looking pleased.

“It’s the only kind that would pay,” Johnny Gamble hastily assured her.  “It would be expensive—­no suite less than three thousand a year and nobody allowed to do anything.”