Through the open door he saw a short man, of fifty or thereabouts, sitting at a desk. There was another person in the office—a boy, somewhere near his own age—dressed in the fashion, with a gold watch-chain across his vest, a showy pin in his scarf, and the air of a young coxcomb.
This was Clarence Plantagenet Walton, the only son of the merchant, and of course Ben's cousin. The two, however, had not met since both were very young boys, and neither would have recognized the other.
Ben overheard a fragment of the conversation between his uncle and cousin.
"You spend too much money, Plantagenet. It is less than a week since I gave you ten dollars."
"The fellows I go with are all rich, and spend plenty of money. You wouldn't want them to look upon me as mean, pa?"
"The boys of the present day are altogether too extravagant," said his father, frowning. "Why, when I was a boy, I didn't spend ten dollars in three months."
"You were not in fashionable society like me, pa," said Clarence Plantagenet, consequentially.
"Much good it does you!" muttered Mr. Walton. "What do you want money for particularly to-day?"
"I am going with Percy Van Dyke to a base-ball match this afternoon. Percy lives in a splendid house on Fifth avenue, and his family is one of the first. I suppose we shall get home late, and I want to give him a little supper at Delmonico's."