"Good-morning, Harold!" answered Luke, agreeably surprised by the other's cordiality.
"Are you going out with Aunt Eliza this morning?"
"I am not sure whether she will want to go out. I shall call and inquire."
"You seem to be quite a favorite of hers."
"I hope I am. She always treats me kindly."
"I really believe she thinks more of you than she does of me."
"You mustn't think that," said Luke, modestly. "You are a relation, and I am only in her employ."
"Oh, it doesn't trouble me. I am bound for the city. I think I shall take the next car, good-day!"
"Good-day, Harold!"
Luke walked on, quite unconscious that Harold, as he passed by his side, had managed to slip the morocco wallet into the pocket of his sack coat.