the centre of interest, and feel unutterably uncomfortable in the discovery.  Being obliged to say something, he would mine his brain and put in a blast and when the smoke and flying debris had cleared away the result would be what seemed to him but a poor little intellectual clod of dirt or two, and then he would be astonished to see everybody as lost in admiration as if he had brought up a ton or two of virgin gold.  Every remark he made delighted his hearers and compelled their applause; he overheard people say he was exceedingly bright—­they were chiefly mammas and marriageable young ladies.  He found that some of his good things were being repeated about the town.  Whenever he heard of an instance of this kind, he would keep that particular remark in mind and analyze it at home in private.  At first he could not see that the remark was anything better than a parrot might originate; but by and by he began to feel that perhaps he underrated his powers; and after that he used to analyze his good things with a deal of comfort, and find in them a brilliancy which would have been unapparent to him in earlier days—­and then he would make a note, of that good thing and say it again the first time he found himself in a new company.  Presently he had saved up quite a repertoire of brilliancies; and after that he confined himself to repeating these and ceased to originate any more, lest he might injure his reputation by an unlucky effort.

He was constantly having young ladies thrust upon his notice at receptions, or left upon his hands at parties, and in time he began to feel that he was being deliberately persecuted in this way; and after that he could not enjoy society because of his constant dread of these female ambushes and surprises.  He was distressed to find that nearly every time he showed a young lady a polite attention he was straightway reported to be engaged to her; and as some of these reports got into the newspapers occasionally, he had to keep writing to Louise that they were lies and she must believe in him and not mind them or allow them to grieve her.

Washington was as much in the dark as anybody with regard to the great wealth that was hovering in the air and seemingly on the point of tumbling into the family pocket.  Laura would give him no satisfaction.  All she would say, was: 

“Wait.  Be patient.  You will see.”

“But will it be soon, Laura?”

“It will not be very long, I think.”

“But what makes you think so?”

“I have reasons—­and good ones.  Just wait, and be patient.”

“But is it going to be as much as people say it is?”

“What do they say it is?”

“Oh, ever so much.  Millions!”

“Yes, it will be a great sum.”

“But how great, Laura?  Will it be millions?”

“Yes, you may call it that.  Yes, it will be millions.  There, now—­does that satisfy you?”