“My little niece⁠—you mean Lizzie?⁠ ⁠… Well and happy, well and happy. I⁠—I got”⁠—he drew a thick bundle of dirty papers from his pocket, envelopes, newspapers, circulars, and the like⁠—“I⁠—I⁠—I got, I got her picture here somewheres.”

“Yes, yes, I know, I know,” cried Jadwin. “I’ve seen it. You showed it to me yesterday, you remember.”

“I⁠—I got it here somewheres⁠ ⁠… somewheres,” persisted the old man, fumbling and peering, and as he spoke the clerk from the doorway announced:

“ Mr. Scannel.”

This latter was a large, thick man, red-faced, with white, short whiskers of an almost wiry texture. He had a small, gimlet-like eye, enormous, hairy ears, wore a sack suit, a highly polished top hat, and entered the office with a great flourish of manner and a defiant trumpeting “Well, how do, Captain?”