"Gee!" gasped the young woman's father, and Jack indorsed the observation unreservedly.
"That's a pretty house, Popper," said the young woman as the car reached the Ninety-sixth Street entrance to the Park, pointing toward Mr. Rockernegie's residence.
"Formerly the residence of Andrew Rockernegie," said puss, "but recently sold to Mr. Vanderpoel for three million dollars."
"It's mighty funny I never heard of this Vanderpoel feller before," said the old man.
"Just come into his fortune, sir," vouchsafed puss. "Very young man just come of age, sir."
The old man leaned forward and, addressing Jack, inquired:
"Did you ever hear of this man Vanderpoel, young man?"
"Well, yes," said Jack, with a modest laugh. "Fact is, I myself am Horace Vanderpoel."
The stranger gazed at him in amazement.
"Well, by ginger!" he said. "I—I—I'm dee-lighted to meet you, sir. This is my daughter Amanda, sir. I—I—I'm proud to make your acquaintance."