“How old was the little girl?” asked Walter.
“Four years old, I should think.”
“That isn’t quite so romantic as if she had been three times as old.”
“I couldn’t have rescued her quite as easily, in that case.”
Of course, Hector was called upon for an account of the affair, which he gave plainly, without adding any of those embellishments which some boys, possibly some of my young readers, might have been tempted to put in.
“You are fortunate to have obliged a man like Titus Newman, Hector,” said Mr. Ross. “He is a man of great wealth and influence.”
“Do you know him, papa?” asked Walter.
“No—that is, not at all well. I have been introduced to him.”
Punctually at eight o’clock Hector ascended the steps of a handsome residence on Madison Avenue. The door was opened by a colored servant, of imposing manners.
“Is Mr. Newman at home?” asked Hector, politely.