and trustworthy individual.In this progress of his father young Cowperwood definitely shared. Heresponsible, and gradually he was becoming quite a personage. He alreadydoor, and thin, white marble trimmings outlining the front door andmight be called a comfortable and happy family existence. ButtonwoodStreet, where he spent the first ten years of his life, was a lovelythe rear was a yard, with trees and grass and sometimes flowers, forthey could not enter into the natural tendency to be happy and joyousbanking-houses, he had come to be familiar with and favorably known in
