“Pretty scrubby-looking cars,” commented Armorer; “but get our new ordinance through the council, we can save enough to afford some fine new cars. Has Lossing said anything to you about the ordinance and our petition to be allowed to leave off the conductors?”
“He hasn't said anything, but I read about it in the papers. Is it so very important that it should be passed?”
“Saving money is always important, my dear,” said Armorer, seriously.
The horses turned again. They were now opposite a fair lawn and a house of wood and stone built after the old colonial pattern, as modern architects see it. Esther pointed, saying:
“Aunt Meg's, papa; isn't it pretty?”
“Very handsome, very fine,” said the financier, who knew nothing about architecture, except its exceeding expense. “Esther, I've a notion; if that young man of yours has brains and is fond of you he ought to be able to get my ordinance through his little eight by ten city council. There is our chance to see what stuff he is made of!”
“Oh, he has a great deal of influence,” said Esther; “he can do it, unless—unless he thinks the ordinance would be bad for the city, you know.”
“Confound the modern way of educating girls!” thought Armorer. “Now, it would have been enough for Esther's mother to know that anything was for my interests; it wouldn't have to help all out-doors, too!”
But instead of enlarging on this point, he went into a sketch of the improvements the road could make with the money saved by the change, and was waxing eloquent when a lady of a pleasant and comely face, and a trig though not slender figure, advanced to greet them.
It was after breakfast (and the scene was the neat pig's pen, where Armorer was displaying his ignorance of swine) that he found his first chance to talk with his sister alone. “Oh, first, Sis,” said he, “about your birthday, to-day; I telegraphed to Tiffany's for that silver service, you know, that you liked, so you needn't think there's a mistake when it comes.”