Mr. Marge had breathed a gentle sigh of relief when he heard of Philip Hayn’s sudden departure from the metropolis: had he known the cause of the young man’s exit he would in gratitude have given a fine dinner to the male gossip who had said in Phil’s hearing that Marge was to marry Lucia. Not knowing of this rumor, he called at the Tramlay abode, ostensibly to invite Lucia and her mother to the theatre, and from the manner of the ladies he assumed that Phil, with the over-confidence of youth, had proposed and been rejected. Marge’s curiosity as to what the head of the family could want of the young man was allayed by Mrs. Tramlay’s statement that the visit was due wholly to her husband’s ridiculous manner of inviting each country acquaintance to come and see him if he ever reached New York; his subsequent hospitality to Philip was only for the purpose of keeping on good terms with some old-fashioned people who might some day again be useful as hosts, and who could not be managed exactly as professional keepers of boarding-houses.

But Marge’s curiosity was rearoused the very day after he received this quieting information, for he chanced to meet the merchant with the young man’s father, and was introduced to the latter.

Instantly the old question returned to his lips, “What can Tramlay want of that fellow?” Again his curiosity subsided, when he learned of the cottage-city project, and, while agreeing to assume a quarter of the expense of the enterprise, he complimented Tramlay on his ability to find something to profit by, even while ostensibly enjoying an occasional day’s rest in the country. But when, a day or two later, Phil reappeared and was presented to him as the old farmer’s representative,—as the real holder, in fact, of a full quarter of the company’s stock,—Marge looked suspiciously at the merchant, and asked himself,—

“What can Tramlay want of that fellow?”

Reasoning according to the principles on which many small real-estate companies or corporations developing a patent are formed, Marge soon informed himself that Tramlay, whose shrewdness he had always held in high respect, preferred the son to the father, as being the easier victim of the two. The processes of frightening out or “freezing out” an inventor or farmer who had put his property in the hands of a stock company were not entirely unknown to Marge, and he naturally assumed that they would be easier of application to a green young man like Philip than to a clear-headed old man, as farmer Hayn seemed to be. But if the rural element of the company was to be despoiled of its own, Marge proposed to see that not all the spoils should go to the merchant. How better could he improve his own position with Tramlay than by making himself the merchant’s superior in finesse? He would have the advantage of being able to watch Phil closely, and of knowing first when he might be inclined to sell out at a sacrifice: should the young man, like most of his age and extraction, develop an insatiable appetite for city joys that cost money, he, Marge, would cheerfully supply him with money from time to time, taking his stock as security, and some day the merchant would suddenly find himself beaten at his own game. The mere thought of such a triumph impelled the deliberate Marge to take a small bottle of champagne with his mid-day luncheon,—a luxury which he usually reserved until evening, at the club.

But again he was startled when a light-headed friend complained that, although the said friend’s father had been promised a place for his son in Tramlay’s office when the iron trade should look up, Tramlay had taken in a countryman instead. His own eyes soon confirmed the intelligence, and, as Tramlay made no explanation or even mention of the fact, Marge again found himself asking,—

“What can Tramlay want of that fellow?”

Evidently it meant either business or Lucia. Perhaps the merchant during the long depression of the iron trade had borrowed money of the young man’s father, or was now borrowing of him, to avail himself of his increasing opportunities. (Marge had the city man’s customary but erroneous impression as to the bank-surplus of the average “well-to-do” farmer.) If Tramlay were merely a borrower, except against notes and bills receivable, iron had not looked up enough to justify a prudent man in becoming the merchant’s son-in-law. If there had been such transactions, perhaps a share of the business was to pay for them. Inquiries of his banking-acquaintances did not make the matter clearer to Marge; so he resolved to devote himself to the new clerk, as he could safely do in his capacity of co-director of the Improvement Company. The young man had considerable self-possession, Marge admitted to himself; but what would it avail against the fine methods of a man of twice his years, all spent among men who considered it legitimate business to pry into the business-affairs of others?

So Marge began operations at once; no time was to be lost. He had no difficulty in making his approaches, and his courtesies were so deftly offered that Phil could not help accepting many of them and feeling grateful for kindness rendered. The young man’s suspicions were soon disarmed, for, like honorable natures in general, he abhorred suspicion. That there was a purpose in all of Marge’s actions Phil could not avoid believing, but little by little he reached the conclusion that it was simply to forward the Improvement Company’s prospects. As Marge himself said, Phil knew the company’s land thoroughly, and was the only person who could talk of it intelligently. Any vestiges of distrust that remained were swept away when Marge succeeded in having the privileges of his club extended to Phil for three months, pending application for admission. It was a small club, and exclusive; Phil heard it named almost reverently by some young men who longed to pass its portals, and among its members were a few men of a social set more prominent than that in which the Tramlays moved.

To Marge’s delight, Phil began to spend money freely at the club: Marge had seen other young men do likewise, and there was but one end to be expected if their parents are not rich. Phil drank no wine, smoked no cigars, yet when he thought it proper to give a little dinner the best that the club’s caterer could supply was on the table. He did not seem to have any other expensive habits, except that he dressed so carefully that his tailor’s bill must be large; still, a man who gives dinners at clubs must have plenty of money. From being a source of gratification, Phil’s free use of money began gradually to cause Marge dismay. Where did it all come from? He could scarcely be earning it in his capacity of junior clerk in an iron-house. Could it be that Tramlay had him in training for the position of son-in-law, and was paying the cost of introducing him favorably to the notice of some sets of New York society to whom he could not present him at his own house? Such a course would be quite judicious in a father desiring wider acquaintance for his daughter when she should become a bride; but, if it really were being pursued, would he, Marge, ever hear the end of the rallying to which his own part in the programme would subject him?

There was more torment in this view of the case than Marge had ever experienced in his life before, and it robbed him at times of his habitual expression to an extent that was noticeable and made him the subject of some club chat. No matter how exclusive a club may be, no matter how careful in the selection of its members that none but gentlemen may be upon its list, it cannot prevent a small, gradual, but distinct and persistent aggregation of gossips,—fellows whose energies, such as they are, tend solely to investigation of the affairs of their acquaintances. There was not an hour of the day or night when several of these fellows could not be found at Marge’s club, lounging as listlessly and inconspicuously as so many incurables at a hospital, but Marge knew by experience that these were the only fellows worth going to if he wanted to know all that was being said about a member, particularly if it was uncomplimentary. And now, confound them, possibly they were talking about him, and intimating that he was being used to improve the standing of his own rival!

Still, as he informed himself, all his annoyance came from a mere supposition, which might be entirely without foundation. Perhaps the young man had means of his own; he had not looked like it when he first appeared in New York, but appearances sometimes were deceitful. Marge had heard Tramlay allude to Phil’s father as an honest old farmer to whom fortune had not been any too generous; but perhaps he had been estimating the old man’s possessions only by New York standards: was it not the farming-class that originally took up the greater part of the government’s great issues of bonds?

And, yet, if the young man had money of his own or of his father’s, where did he keep it? Had he ever displayed a check, to indicate his banking-place, Marge would have found ways of ascertaining the size and nature of his account. But, though he had several times seen Phil pay bills which were rather large, the settlements were always made with currency. Was it possible, Marge asked himself, that the traditional old stocking was still the favorite bank of deposit for the rural community? It might have relieved his mind to know that the countryman’s customary method, when he has money, is to carry a great deal of currency, and that instead of making payments by check he draws bank-notes with which to pay.

And so the weeks went on, and Marge did not accomplish anything that he had intended when he began to devote himself to the young man from the country. Phil borrowed no money, squandered none at cards, did not run into dissipation, offered no confidences, and, although entirely approachable, was as secretive about his personal affairs as if he had been sworn to silence. Even on the subject of Lucia, which Marge had cautiously approached several times, he talked with a calmness that made Marge doubt the evidence of his own senses. Phil did not even wince when Marge reminded him of the horse he knew of that would match Marge’s own, the reason assigned being that the sleighing-season was coming and he would be likely to frequently take the ladies of the Tramlay family out behind two horses. On the contrary, Phil had the horse found and sent to New York at his own expense, saying he could make himself even by selling, in case the animal did not please Marge.

The horse arrived; he pleased Marge, who was delighted with the impression the new team made upon the family and his acquaintances generally, Phil included. Marge was not equally pleased, however, when within a few days farmer Hayn sent his son a pair of black horses which, though of no blood in particular, had a quality of spirit and style not to be expected of high-born animals long accustomed to city pavements and restricted to the funereal gait prescribed by Park Commissioners’ regulations. With their equally untamed country-bred owner to drive them, the span created quite a sensation, and, to Marge’s disgust, the Tramlays seemed to prefer them to the pair on which he had incurred extra expense for the sake of Lucia and her mother.

His plans foiled, his wonderings unanswered, his direct questions evaded, his enemy persisting in acting only as a friend might act, and the father of his intended avoiding mention of Phil so carefully as to excite suspicion, yet inviting Marge to his house as freely as ever, the man of the world was unable to reach any fixed decision, and was obliged again and again to repeat to himself the question,—

“What can Tramlay want of that fellow?”