It was nice. This particular room was twenty by 
twenty-four, and finished in imitation cherry, with a set 
of new and shapely Sheraton parlor furniture. Since 
Henry, the father, had become teller of the Third National 
the family had indulged in a piano—a decided luxury in 
those days—brought from Europe; and it was intended 
that Anna Adelaide, when she was old enough, should 
learn to play. There were a few uncommon ornaments 
in the room—a gas-chandelier for one thing, a glass bowl 
with goldfish in it, some rare and highly polished shells, 
and a marble Cupid bearing a basket of flowers, which 
Cowperwood had picked up somewhere at a sale. It was 
summer-time, the windows were open, and the trees out- 
side, with their softly extended green branches, were 
pleasantly visible shading the brick sidewalk. Uncle 
Seneca strolled out into the back yard to see if they had 
a hammock. 
"Well, this is pleasant enough," he observed, noting 
a large elm and seeing that the yard was partially paved 
with brick and inclosed within brick walls, up the sides 
of which vines were clambering. " Where's your ham- 
mock? Don't you string a hammock here in summer? 
Down on my verandas at San Pedro I have six or seven." 
He noted Edward, the youngest boy, at his side, with 
Frank in the distance, looking at him. Mr. and Mrs. 
Cowperwood were conservatively located in the doorway. 
" We hadn't thought of putting one up because of the 
neighbors; but it would be nice. Henry will have to 
get one." 
" I have two or three in my trunks over at the hotel. 
I thought you mightn't have any. My niggers make 'em 
down there. I'll send Manuel over with them in the 
He plucked at the vines, tweaked Edward's ear, told 
Joseph, the second boy, he would bring him an Indian 
tomahawk, and went back into the house. 
" This is the lad that interests me," he said, after a