"I am sure we shall be very good friends," said our hero. "Herbert," said his father, "will you show Grant the room he is to occupy?" "It is next to mine, isn't it, papa?" "Yes, my son." "Come with me," said Herbert, putting his hand in Grant's. "I will show you the way." Grant, who was only accustomed to the plain homes in his native village, was impressed by the evidence of wealth and luxury observable in the house of the stock broker. The room assigned to him was small, but it was very handsomely furnished, and he almost felt out of place in it. But it was not many days, to anticipate matters a little, before he felt at home. Herbert took Grant afterward into his own room. "See my books," he said, leading the way to a bookcase, containing perhaps a hundred volumes, the majority of a juvenile character, but some suited to more mature tastes. "Do you like reading?" asked Grant. "I have read all the books you see here," answered Herbert, "and some of papa's besides. I like to read better than to play." "But you ought to spend some of your time in play, or you will not grow up healthy." "That is what papa says. I try to play some, but I don't care much about it." Grant was no longer surprised at the little boy's delicacy. It was clear that he needed more amusement and more exercise. "Perhaps," he thought, "I can induce Herbert to exercise more." "When do you take dinner?" he asked. "At half-past six. There is plenty of time." "Then suppose we take a little walk together. We shall both have a better appetite." "I should like to," replied Herbert; "that is, with you. I don't like to walk alone." "How far is Central Park from here?"