"Where does one get off?"

"At Prospect Street, sir."

"And what is this place called?"

"This is the old Bennett place, sir."

"Thank you. And let me tell you, Mrs. Hargis," I added, "that I have
never tasted a better salad."

Her kindly old face flushed with pleasure.

"It's nice of you to say that, sir," she said. "We have our own
garden, and William takes a great pride in it."

"I must go and see it," I said. "I've always fancied I'd like to
potter around in a garden. I must see if Mr. Godfrey won't let me in
on this."

"He spends an hour in it every morning. Sometimes he can hardly tear
himself away. I certainly do like Mr. Godfrey."

"So do I," I agreed heartily. "He's a splendid fellow--one of the
nicest, squarest men I ever met--and a friend worth having."

"He's all of that, sir," she agreed, and stood for a moment, clasping
and unclasping her hands nervously, as though there was something else
she wished to say. But she evidently thought better of it. "There's