"What, in particular?"
"That Grace Manton has been the heroine of all his last stories."
"I fancied I could see you in one or two of them," replied Jack.
"Perhaps. But I am not the heroine; I am only the goody-goody girl," laughed Vinnie. "When you see beauty, talent, accomplishments,—that's Grace. I am glad they are getting on so well together."
"So am I!" said Jack, with an indescribable look at the girl beside him.
"Mr. Manton is dead,—I suppose you know it," said Vinnie.
Jack knew it, and was not sorry; though he had much to say in praise of the man's natural talents, which dissipation had ruined.
The purchase made, they visited the schooner, where it was decided that Vinnie should remain on board. Jack then left her, in order to make the most of his time looking about the city for his horse.
He continued his search, visiting every public stable, making inquiries of the hostlers, and nailing up or distributing a small handbill he had had printed, offering a reward of twenty dollars for "a light, reddish roan horse, with white forefeet, a conspicuous scar low down on the near side, just behind the shoulder, and a smaller scar on the off hip."
In the mean time he kept a sharp lookout for roan horses in the streets. But all to no purpose. There were roan horses enough, but he could see and hear nothing of the particular roan he wanted.