“Very decent in him, and you should never forget him for it,” and again Peter’s eyes roamed around the perfectly appointed room.

“I know it, sir, and at first the very newness and strangeness of everything delighted me.  Then I began to meet the people.  They were so different from those in my part of the country, especially the young fellows—­Garry is not so bad, because he really loves his work and is bound to succeed—­everybody says he has a genius for architecture—­but the others—­and the way they treat the young girls, and what is more unaccountable to me is the way the young girls put up with it.”

Peter had settled himself deeper in his chair, his eyes shaded with one hand and looked intently at the boy.

“Uncle Arthur is kind to me, but the life smothers me.  I can’t breathe sometimes.  Nothing my father taught me is considered worth while here.  People care for other things.”

“What, for instance?” Peter’s hand never moved, nor did his body.

“Why stocks and bonds and money, for instance,” laughed Jack, beginning to be annoyed at his own tirade—­half ashamed of it in fact.  “Stocks are good enough in their way, but you don’t want to live with them from ten o’clock in the morning till four o’clock in the afternoon, and then hear nothing else talked about until you go to bed.  That’s why that dinner last night made such an impression on me.  Nobody said money once.”

“But every one of those men had his own hobby—­”

“Yes, but in my uncle’s world they all ride one and the same horse.  I don’t want to be a pessimist, Mr. Grayson, and I want you to set me straight if I am wrong, but Mr. Morris and every one of those men about him were the first men I’ve seen in New York who appear to me to be doing the things that will live after them.  What are we doing down-town?  Gambling the most of us.”

“But your life here isn’t confined to your uncle and his stock-gambling friends.  Surely these lovely young girls—­two of them came in with me—­” and Peter smiled, “must make your life delightful.”

Jack’s eyes sought the floor, then he answered slowly: 

“I hope you won’t think me a cad, but—­No, I’m not going to say a word about them, only I can’t get accustomed to them and there’s no use of my saying that I can.  I couldn’t treat any girl the way they are treated here.  And I tell you another thing—­none of the young girls whom I know at home would treat me as these girls treat the men they know.  I’m queer, I guess, but I might as well make a clean breast of it all.  I am an ingrate, perhaps, but I can’t help thinking that the old life at home was the best.  We loved our friends, and they were welcome at our table any hour, day or night.  We had plenty of time for everything; we lived out of doors or in doors, just as we pleased, and we dressed to suit ourselves, and nobody criticised.  Why, if I drop into the Magnolia on my way up-town and forget to wear a derby hat with a sack coat, or a black tie with a dinner-jacket, everybody winks and nudges his neighbor.  Did you ever hear of such nonsense in your life?”