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+Project Gutenberg's The Wall Street Girl, by Frederick Orin Bartlett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Wall Street Girl
+
+Author: Frederick Orin Bartlett
+
+Illustrator: George Ellis Wolfe
+
+Release Date: August 10, 2009 [EBook #29654]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WALL STREET GIRL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+The underscore character "_" is used in this book to indicate italics
+markup in the original, as in "Then he _must_ hold on." The only
+exception to this is where it is used to indicate a subscript,
+specifically in H_20 and CO_2, the common chemical formulas for water
+and carbon dioxide referenced in the text.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "DON DEAR, YOU'RE LIVING TOO MUCH DOWNTOWN"]
+
+
+
+
+THE WALL STREET GIRL
+
+BY
+
+FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+
+GEORGE ELLIS WOLFE
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1915 AND 1916, BY EVERY WEEK CORPORATION
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT
+
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+
+Published September 1916
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+THALIA
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+       I. Don Receives a Jolt                                        1
+      II. It Becomes Necessary to Eat                               11
+     III. The Queen Was in the Parlor                               20
+      IV. Concerning Sandwiches                                     27
+       V. Business                                                  43
+      VI. Two Girls                                                 64
+     VII. Roses                                                     71
+    VIII. A Man of Affairs                                          80
+      IX. It Will Never Do                                          93
+       X. Dictation                                                100
+      XI. Steak, With Mushrooms and Advice                         111
+     XII. A Social Widow                                           123
+    XIII. Dear Sir--                                               129
+     XIV. In Reply                                                 138
+      XV. Cost                                                     144
+     XVI. A Memorandum                                             153
+    XVII. On the Way Home                                          161
+   XVIII. A Discourse on Salaries                                  171
+     XIX. A Letter                                                 184
+      XX. Stars                                                    185
+     XXI. In the Dark                                              193
+    XXII. The Sensible Thing                                       200
+   XXIII. Looking Ahead                                            207
+    XXIV. Vacations                                                215
+     XXV. In the Park                                              223
+    XXVI. One Stuyvesant                                           238
+   XXVII. The Stars Again                                          247
+  XXVIII. Seeing                                                   256
+    XXIX. Mostly Sally                                             264
+     XXX. Don Explains                                             275
+    XXXI. Sally Decides                                            295
+   XXXII. Barton Appears                                           305
+  XXXIII. A Bully World                                            317
+   XXXIV. Don Makes Good                                           321
+    XXXV. "Home, John"                                             330
+
+
+
+
+THE WALL STREET GIRL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+DON RECEIVES A JOLT
+
+
+Before beginning to read the interesting document in front of him,
+Jonas Barton, senior member of Barton & Saltonstall, paused to clean
+his glasses rather carefully, in order to gain sufficient time to
+study for a moment the tall, good-looking young man who waited
+indifferently on the other side of the desk. He had not seen his late
+client's son since the latter had entered college--a black-haired,
+black-eyed lad of seventeen, impulsive in manner and speech. The
+intervening four years had tempered him a good deal. Yet, the
+Pendleton characteristics were all there--the square jaw, the rather
+large, firm mouth, the thin nose, the keen eyes. They were all there,
+but each a trifle subdued: the square jaw not quite so square as the
+father's, the mouth not quite so large, the nose so sharp, or the
+eyes so keen. On the other hand, there was a certain fineness that the
+father had lacked.
+
+In height Don fairly matched his father's six feet, although he still
+lacked the Pendleton breadth of shoulder.
+
+The son was lean, and his cigarette--a dilettante variation of honest
+tobacco-smoking that had always been a source of irritation to his
+father--did not look at all out of place between his long, thin
+fingers; in fact, nothing else would have seemed quite suitable.
+Barton was also forced to admit to himself that the young man, in some
+miraculous way, managed to triumph over his rather curious choice of
+raiment, based presumably on current styles. In and of themselves the
+garments were not beautiful. From Barton's point of view, Don's straw
+hat was too large and too high in the crown. His black-and-white check
+suit was too conspicuous and cut close to the figure in too feminine a
+fashion. His lavender socks, which matched a lavender tie, went well
+enough with the light stick he carried; but, in Barton's opinion, a
+young man of twenty-two had no business to carry a light stick. By no
+stretch of the imagination could one picture the elder Pendleton in
+such garb, even in his jauntiest days. And yet, as worn by Don, it
+seemed as if he could not very well have worn anything else. Even the
+mourning-band about his left arm, instead of adding a somber touch,
+afforded an effective bit of contrast. This, however, was no fault of
+his. That mourning has artistic possibilities is a happy fact that has
+brought gentle solace to many a widow.
+
+On the whole, Barton could not escape the deduction that the son
+reflected the present rather than the past. Try as he might, it was
+difficult for him to connect this young man with Grandfather
+Pendleton, shipbuilder of New Bedford, or with the father who in his
+youth commanded the Nancy R. But that was by no means his duty--as Don
+faintly suggested when he uncrossed his knees and hitched forward
+impatiently.
+
+"Your father's will is dated three years ago last June," began
+Barton.
+
+"At the end of my freshman year," Don observed.
+
+Jonas Barton adjusted his spectacles and began to read. He read slowly
+and very distinctly, as if anxious to give full value to each
+syllable:
+
+"New York City, borough of Manhattan, State of New York. I, Donald
+Joshua Pendleton, being of sound mind and--"
+
+Donald Pendleton, Jr., waved an objection with his cigarette.
+
+"Can't you cut out all the legal stuff and just give me the gist of
+it? There's no doubt about father having been of sound mind and so
+forth."
+
+"It is customary--" began the attorney.
+
+"Well, we'll break the custom," Don cut in sharply.
+
+Barton glanced up. It might have been his late client speaking; it
+gave him a start.
+
+"As you wish," he assented. "Perhaps, however, I may be allowed to
+observe that in many ways your father's will is peculiar."
+
+"It wouldn't be father's will if it wasn't peculiar," declared Don.
+
+Barton pushed the papers away from him.
+
+"Briefly, then," he said, "your father leaves his entire estate to
+you--in trust."
+
+Don leaned forward, his stick grasped in his gloved hands.
+
+"I don't get that last."
+
+"In trust," repeated Barton with emphasis. "He has honored our firm
+with the commission of serving as a board of trustees for carrying out
+the terms of the will."
+
+"You mean to fix my allowance?"
+
+"To carry out the terms of the will, which are as follows: namely, to
+turn over to you, but without power of conveyance, the paternal
+domicile on West Sixtieth Street with all its contents."
+
+Don frowned.
+
+"Paternal domicile--I can translate that all right. I suppose you mean
+the house. But what's that line 'without power of conveyance'?"
+
+"It means that you are at liberty to occupy the premises, but that you
+are to have no power to sell, to rent, or to dispose of the property
+in any way whatsoever."
+
+Don appeared puzzled.
+
+"That's a bit queer. What do you suppose Dad thought I wanted of a
+place that size to live in?"
+
+"I think your father was a man of considerable sentiment."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Sentiment," Barton repeated. "It was there you were born, and there
+your mother died."
+
+"Yes, that's all correct; but--well, go on."
+
+"The rest of the document, if you insist upon a digest, consists
+principally of directions to the trustees. Briefly, it provides that
+we invest the remainder of the property in safe bonds and apply the
+interest to meet taxes on the aforesaid paternal domicile, to retain
+and pay the wages of the necessary servants, to furnish fuel and
+water, and to maintain the house in proper repair."
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"In case of your demise--"
+
+"You may skip my demise; I'm not especially interested in that."
+
+"Then I think we have covered all the more important provisions,"
+Barton concluded.
+
+"All?" exclaimed Don. "What do you think I'm going to live on?"
+
+Here was the clash for which Barton had been waiting. His face
+hardened, and he shoved back his chair a little.
+
+"I am not able to find any provision in the will relating to that," he
+answered.
+
+"Eh? But what the deuce--"
+
+For a moment Don stared open-mouthed at the lawyer. Then he reached in
+his pocket for his cigarettes, selected one with some deliberation,
+and tapped an end upon the case.
+
+"You said Dad had considerable sentiment," he observed. "It strikes me
+he has shown more humor than sentiment."
+
+Barton was still aggressive. To tell the truth, he expected some
+suggestion as to the possibility of breaking the will; but if ever he
+had drawn a paper all snug and tight, it was the one in question.
+
+"Damme," Pendleton, Sr., had said. "Damme, Barton, if the lad is able
+to break the will, I'll rise in my grave and haunt you the rest of
+your days."
+
+If the boy wished to test the issue, Barton was ready for him. But the
+boy's thoughts seemed to be on other things.
+
+"I suppose," mused Pendleton, Jr., "I suppose it was that freshman
+scrape that worried him."
+
+"I was not informed of that," replied Barton.
+
+"It made good reading," the young man confided. "But, honest, it was
+not so bad as the papers made it out. Dad was a good sport about it,
+anyhow. He cleared it up and let me go on."
+
+"If you will allow me to advance an opinion,--a strictly personal
+opinion,--it is that Mr. Pendleton devised the entire will with
+nothing else but your welfare in mind. He had a good deal of pride,
+and desired above all things to have you retain the family home. If I
+remember correctly, he said you were the last lineal descendant."
+
+Don nodded pleasantly.
+
+"The last. Kind of looks as if he wanted me to remain the last."
+
+"On the contrary," ventured Barton, "I think he hoped you might marry
+and--"
+
+"Marry?" broke in Don. "Did you say _marry?_"
+
+"I even understood, from a conversation with your father just before
+his death, that you--er--were even then engaged. Am I mistaken?"
+
+"No; that's true enough. But say--look here."
+
+The young man reached in his pocket and brought forth a handful of
+crumpled bills and loose change. He counted it carefully.
+
+"Twelve dollars and sixty-three cents," he announced. "What do you
+think Frances Stuyvesant will say to that?"
+
+Barton refrained from advancing an opinion.
+
+"What do you think Morton H. Stuyvesant will say?" demanded Don.
+
+No point of law being involved in the query, Jonas Barton still
+refrained.
+
+"What do you think Mrs. Morton H. Stuyvesant will say, and all the
+uncles and aunties and nephews and nieces?"
+
+"Not being their authorized representative, I am not prepared to
+answer," Barton replied. "However, I think I can tell you what your
+father would do under these circumstances."
+
+"What?" inquired Don.
+
+"He would place all the facts in the case before the girl, then
+before her father, and learn just what they had to say."
+
+"Wrong. He wouldn't go beyond the girl," answered Don.
+
+He replaced the change in his pocket.
+
+"Ah," he sighed--"them were the happy days."
+
+"If I remember correctly," continued Jonas Barton thoughtfully,
+"twelve dollars and sixty-three cents was fully as much as your father
+possessed when he asked your mother to marry him. That was just after
+he lost his ship off Hatteras."
+
+"Yes, them were the happy days," nodded Don. "But, at that, Dad had
+his nerve with him."
+
+"He did," answered Barton. "He had his nerve with him always."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IT BECOMES NECESSARY TO EAT
+
+
+In spite of the continued efforts of idealists to belittle it, there
+is scarcely a fact of human experience capable of more universal
+substantiation than that in order to live it is necessary to eat. The
+corollary is equally true: in order to eat it is necessary to pay.
+
+Yet until now Pendleton had been in a position to ignore, if not to
+refute, the latter statement. There was probably no detail of his
+daily existence calling for less thought or effort than this matter of
+dining. Opportunities were provided on every hand,--at the houses of
+his friends, at his club, at innumerable caf�s and hotels,--and all
+that he was asked to contribute was an appetite.
+
+It was not until he had exhausted his twelve dollars and sixty-three
+cents that Don was in any position to change his point of view. But
+that was very soon. After leaving the office of Barton & Saltonstall
+at eleven, he took a taxi to the Harvard Club, which immediately cut
+down his capital to ten dollars and thirteen cents. Here he met
+friends, Higgins and Watson and Cabot of his class, and soon he had
+disposed of another dollar. They then persuaded him to walk part way
+downtown with them. On his return, he passed a florist's, and,
+remembering that Frances was going that afternoon to a _th� dansant_,
+did the decent thing and sent up a dozen roses, which cost him five
+dollars. Shortly after this he passed a confectioner's, and of course
+had to stop for a box of Frances's favorite bonbons, which cost him
+another dollar.
+
+Not that he considered the expense in the least. As long as he was
+able to reach in his pocket and produce a bill of sufficient value to
+cover the immediate investment, that was enough. But it is surprising
+how brief a while ten dollars will suffice in a leisurely stroll on
+Fifth Avenue. Within a block of the confectionery store two cravats
+that took his fancy and a box of cigarettes called for his last bill,
+and actually left him with nothing but a few odd pieces of silver.
+Even this did not impress him as significant, because, as it
+happened, his wants were for the moment fully satisfied.
+
+It was a clear October day, and, quite unconscious of the distance,
+Don continued up the Avenue to Sixtieth Street--to the house where he
+was born. In the last ten years he had been away a good deal from that
+house,--four years at Groton, four at Harvard,--but, even so, the
+house had always remained in the background of his consciousness as a
+fixed point.
+
+Nora opened the door for him, as she had for twenty years.
+
+"Are you to be here for dinner, sir?" she inquired.
+
+"No, Nora," he answered; "I shall dine out to-night."
+
+Nora appeared uneasy.
+
+"The cook, sir, has received a letter--a very queer sort of letter,
+sir--from a lawyer gentleman."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"He said she was to keep two accounts, sir: one for the servants'
+table and one for the house."
+
+"Oh, that's probably from old Barton."
+
+"Barton--yes, sir, that was the name. Shall I bring you the letter,
+sir?"
+
+"Don't bother, Nora. It's all right. He's my new bookkeeper."
+
+"Very well, sir. Then you'll give orders for what you want?"
+
+"Yes, Nora."
+
+In the library an open fire was burning brightly on the hearth, as
+always it had been kept burning for his father. With his hands behind
+his back, he stood before it and gazed around the big room. It seemed
+curiously empty with the old man gone. The machinery of the house as
+adjusted by him still continued to run on smoothly. And yet, where at
+certain hours he should have been, he was not. It was uncanny.
+
+It was a little after one; Don determined to change his clothes and
+stroll downtown for luncheon--possibly at Sherry's. He was always sure
+there of running across some one he knew.
+
+He went to his room and dressed with some care, and then walked down
+to Forty-fourth Street. Before deciding to enter the dining-room,
+however, he stood at the entrance a moment to see if there was any one
+there he recognized. Jimmy Harndon saw him and rose at once.
+
+"Hello, Jimmy," Don greeted him.
+
+"Hello, Don. You came in the nick of time. Lend me ten, will you?"
+
+"Sure," answered Don.
+
+He sought his bill-book. It was empty. For a moment he was confused.
+
+"Oh, never mind," said Jimmy, perceiving his embarrassment. "I'll
+'phone Dad to send it up by messenger. Bit of fool carelessness on my
+part. You'll excuse me?"
+
+Harndon hurried off to the telephone.
+
+Don stared at his empty pocket-book, at the head waiter, who still
+stood at the door expectantly, and then replaced the empty wallet in
+his pocket. There was no use waiting here any longer. He could not
+dine, if he wished. Never before in his life had he been confronted by
+such a situation. Once or twice he had been in Harndon's predicament,
+but that had meant no more to him than it meant to Harndon--nothing
+but a temporary embarrassment. The difference now was that Harndon
+could still telephone his father and that he could not. Here was a
+significant distinction; it was something he must think over.
+
+Don went on to the Harvard Club. He passed two or three men he knew in
+the lobby, but shook his head at their invitation to join them. He
+took a seat by himself before an open fire in a far corner of the
+lounge. Then he took out his bill-book again, and examined it with
+some care, in the hope that a bill might have slipped in among his
+cards. The search was without result. Automatically his father's
+telephone number suggested itself, but that number now was utterly
+without meaning. A new tenant already occupied those offices--a tenant
+who undoubtedly would report to the police a modest request to forward
+to the Harvard Club by messenger a hundred dollars.
+
+He was beginning to feel hungry--much hungrier than he would have felt
+with a pocket full of money. Of course his credit at the club was
+good. He could have gone into the dining-room and ordered what he
+wished. But credit took on a new meaning. Until now it had been
+nothing but a trifling convenience, because at the end of the month he
+had only to forward his bill to his father. But that could not be done
+any longer.
+
+He could also have gone to any one of a dozen men of his acquaintance
+and borrowed from five to fifty dollars. But it was one thing to
+borrow as he had in the past, and another to borrow in his present
+circumstances. He had no right to borrow. The whole basis of his
+credit was gone.
+
+The situation was, on the face of it, so absurd that the longer he
+thought it over the more convinced he became that Barton had made some
+mistake. He decided to telephone Barton.
+
+It was with a sense of relief that Don found the name of Barton &
+Saltonstall still in the telephone-book. It would not have surprised
+him greatly if that too had disappeared. It was with a still greater
+sense of relief that he finally heard Barton's voice.
+
+"Look here," he began. "It seems to me there must be some misunderstanding
+somewhere. Do you realize that I'm stony broke?"
+
+"Why, no," answered Barton. "I thought you showed me the matter of
+thirteen dollars or so."
+
+"I did; but that's gone, and all I have now is the matter of thirteen
+cents or so."
+
+"I'm sorry," answered Barton. "If a small loan would be of any
+temporary advantage--"
+
+"Hang it!" cut in Don. "You don't think I'm trying to borrow, do
+you?"
+
+"I beg your pardon. Perhaps you will tell me, then, just what you do
+wish."
+
+"I must eat, mustn't I?"
+
+"I consider that a fair presumption."
+
+"Then what the deuce!"
+
+Don evidently expected this ejaculation to be accepted as a full and
+conclusive statement. But, as far as Barton was concerned, it was not.
+"Yes?" he queried.
+
+"I say, what the deuce?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"What am I going to do?"
+
+"Oh, I see. You mean, I take it, what must you do in order to provide
+yourself with funds."
+
+"Exactly," growled Don.
+
+"Of course, the usual method is to work," suggested Barton.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"To find a position with some firm which, in return for your services,
+is willing to pay you a certain fixed sum weekly or monthly. I offer
+you the suggestion for what it is worth. You can think it over."
+
+"Think it over!" exclaimed Don. "How long do you think I can think on
+thirteen cents?"
+
+"If you authorize me to act for you, I have no doubt something can be
+arranged."
+
+"You seem to hold all the cards."
+
+"I am merely obeying your father's commands," Barton hastened to
+assure him. "Now, can you give me any idea what you have in mind?"
+
+"I'll do anything except sell books," Don answered promptly.
+
+"Very well," concluded Barton. "I'll advise you by mail as soon as
+anything develops."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"In the mean while, if you will accept a loan--"
+
+"Thanks again," answered Don; "but I'll go hungry first." He hung up
+the receiver and went back to the lounge.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE QUEEN WAS IN THE PARLOR
+
+
+Stuyvesant was proud of his daughter--proud of her beauty, proud of
+her ability to dress, proud of her ability to spend money. She gave
+him about the only excuse he now had for continuing to hold his seat
+on the Stock Exchange. The girl was tall and dark and slender, and had
+an instinct for clothes that permitted her to follow the vagaries of
+fashion to their extremes with the assurance of a Parisienne, plus a
+certain Stuyvesant daring that was American. At dinner that night she
+wore, for Don's benefit, a new French gown that made even him catch
+his breath. It was beautiful, but without her it would not have been
+beautiful. Undoubtedly its designer took that into account when he
+designed the gown.
+
+The dinner was in every way a success, and a credit to the Stuyvesant
+chef--who, however, it must be said, seldom had the advantage of
+catering to a guest that had not lunched. Stuyvesant was in a good
+humor, Mrs. Stuyvesant pleasantly negative as usual, and Frances
+radiant. Early in the evening Stuyvesant went off to his club for a
+game of bridge, and Mrs. Stuyvesant excused herself to write notes.
+
+"I met Reggie Howland at the tea this afternoon," said Frances. "He
+was very nice to me."
+
+"Why shouldn't he be?" inquired Don.
+
+"I rather thought you would come. Really, when one goes to all the
+bother of allowing one's self to be engaged, the least one expects is
+a certain amount of attention from one's fianc�e."
+
+She was standing by the piano, and he went to her side and took her
+hand--the hand wearing the solitaire that had been his mother's.
+
+"You're right," he nodded; "but I was all tied up with business this
+afternoon."
+
+She raised her dark brows a trifle.
+
+"Business?"
+
+"Lots of it," he nodded. "Come over here and sit down; I want to tell
+you about it."
+
+He led her to a chair before the open fire. He himself continued to
+stand with his back to the flames. He was not serious. The situation
+struck him now as even funnier than it had in Barton's office. He had
+in his pocket just thirteen cents, and yet here he was in Stuyvesant's
+house, engaged to Stuyvesant's daughter.
+
+"It seems," he began--"it seems that Dad would have his little joke
+before he died."
+
+"Yes?" she responded indifferently. She was bored by business of any
+sort.
+
+"I had a talk to-day with Barton--his lawyer. Queer old codger,
+Barton. Seems he's been made my guardian. Dad left him to me in his
+will. He left me Barton, the house, and twelve dollars and sixty-three
+cents."
+
+"Yes, Don."
+
+She did not quite understand why he was going into details. They did
+not seem to concern her, even as his fianc�e.
+
+"Of that patrimony I now have thirteen cents left," Don continued.
+"See, here it is."
+
+He removed from his pocket two nickels and three coppers.
+
+"It doesn't look like much, does it?"
+
+"Oh, Don," she laughed, "do be serious!"
+
+"I am serious," he assured her. "I've been serious ever since I went
+to Sherry's for lunch, and found I did not have enough for even a
+club sandwich."
+
+"But, Don!" she gasped.
+
+"It's a fact. I had to leave."
+
+"Then where _did_ you lunch?"
+
+"I didn't lunch."
+
+"You mean you did not have enough change to buy something to eat?"
+
+"I had thirteen cents. You can't buy anything with that, can you?"
+
+"I--I don't know."
+
+Suddenly she remembered how, once on her way home from Chicago, she
+lost her purse and did not have sufficient change left even to wire
+her father to meet her. She was forced to walk from the station to the
+house. The experience had always been like a nightmare to her. She
+rose and stood before him.
+
+"But, Don--what are you going to do?"
+
+"I telephoned Barton, and he suggested I take some sort of position
+with a business house. He's going to find something for me. I'm not
+worrying about that; but what I want to know is what I ought to do
+about you."
+
+"I don't understand, Don."
+
+"I mean about our engagement."
+
+She looked puzzled.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm very stupid."
+
+"We can't be married on thirteen cents, can we?"
+
+"But we needn't be married until you have more, need we?"
+
+"That's so. And you're willing to wait?"
+
+"You know I've told you I didn't wish to be married before spring,
+anyway. I think it's much pleasanter staying just as we are."
+
+"We can't be engaged all our lives," he protested.
+
+"We can be engaged as long as we wish, can't we?"
+
+"I want to marry you as soon as I can."
+
+Her eyes brightened and she placed a soft hand upon his arm.
+
+"That's nice of you, Don," she said. "But you don't know what a
+frightfully expensive burden I'll be as a wife."
+
+"If I earned, to start with, say fifty dollars a week--would you marry
+me on that?"
+
+"If I did, what would we live on?" she inquired.
+
+"Well, I have the house. That's provided for--all except the table."
+
+"But if I spent the fifty dollars for a new hat, then what would we
+have left for provisions?"
+
+"You mustn't spend it all on a new hat," he warned.
+
+"Then, there are gowns and--oh, lots of things you don't know anything
+about."
+
+"Couldn't you get along with a little less?"
+
+She thought a moment.
+
+"I don't see how," she decided. "I never get anything I don't want."
+
+"That's something," he nodded approvingly. "Then you think I must earn
+more than fifty a week?"
+
+"I only know that Dad gives me an allowance of ten thousand a year,
+and there's never anything left," she answered.
+
+"Ten thousand a year!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Everything is so expensive to-day, Don. All this talk sounds
+frightfully vulgar, but--there's no use pretending, is there?"
+
+"Not a bit," he answered. "If ten thousand a year is what you need,
+ten thousand a year is what I must earn."
+
+"I don't believe it's very hard, because Dad does it so easily," she
+declared.
+
+"I'll get it," he nodded confidently. "And, now that it's all settled,
+let's forget it. Come over to the piano and sing for me."
+
+He sat down before the keys and played her accompaniments, selecting
+his own songs. They ran through some of the latest opera successes,
+and then swung off to the simpler and older things. It was after
+"Annie Laurie" that he rose and looked deep into her eyes.
+
+"I'll get it for you," he said soberly.
+
+"Oh, Don!" she whispered. "Sometimes nothing seems important but just
+you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+CONCERNING SANDWICHES
+
+
+The arrangement that Barton made for his late client's son was to
+enter the banking house of Carter, Rand & Seagraves, on a salary of
+twelve hundred dollars a year. Don found the letter at the Harvard
+Club the next morning, and immediately telephoned Barton.
+
+"Look here!" he exclaimed. "I appreciate what you've tried to do and
+all that, but what in thunder good is twelve hundred dollars a year?"
+
+"It is at least twelve hundred more than you have now," suggested
+Barton.
+
+"But how can I live on it?"
+
+"You must remember you have the house--"
+
+"Hang the house," Don interrupted. "I must eat and smoke and buy
+clothes, mustn't I? Besides, there's Frances. She needs ten thousand a
+year."
+
+"I have no doubt but that, in time, a man of your ability--"
+
+"How long a time?"
+
+"As to that I am not prepared to give an opinion," replied Barton.
+
+"Because it isn't when I'm eighty that I want it."
+
+"I should say the matter was entirely in your own hands. This at least
+offers you an opening, and I advise you to accept it. However, you
+must decide for yourself; and if at any later date I may be of
+service--"
+
+Don returned to the lounge to think the matter over. It was ten
+o'clock and he had not yet breakfasted. As he had neglected to send
+any provisions to the house, Nora, acting upon his orders of the day
+before, had not prepared anything for him--there was nothing to
+prepare.
+
+However, whether he ate breakfast or not was a detail. That is to say,
+it was a detail when he left the house; but now, after the brisk walk
+to the club in the snapping cold air, it had grown in importance.
+Watson, on his way into the dining-room, passed him.
+
+"Join me?" he asked, waving a greeting with the morning paper.
+
+"Thanks," answered Don. "Guess I'll wait a bit."
+
+Watson went on.
+
+Don returned to a consideration of Barton's proposal. He was forced to
+admit that the old lawyer had an irritating knack of ignoring all
+incidental issues and stripping a problem to a statement of
+irrefutable fact. It was undeniable, for example, that what Don might
+desire in the way of salary did not affect the truth of Barton's
+contention that twelve hundred dollars was a great deal more than
+nothing. With a roof over his head assured him, it was possible that
+he might, with economy, be able at least to keep alive on this salary.
+That, of course, was a matter to be considered. As for Frances, she
+was at present well provided for and need not be in the slightest
+affected by the smallness of his income. Then, there was the
+possibility of a rapid advance. He had no idea how those things were
+arranged, but his limited observation was to the effect that his
+friends who went into business invariably had all the money they
+needed, and that most of his older acquaintances--friends of his
+father--were presidents and vice-presidents with unlimited bank
+accounts. Considering these facts, Don grew decidedly optimistic.
+
+In the mean time his hunger continued to press him. His body, like a
+greedy child, demanded food. Watson came out and, lighting a fresh
+cigarette, sank down comfortably into a chair next him.
+
+"What's the matter, Don--off your feed?" he inquired casually.
+
+"Something of the sort," nodded Don.
+
+"Party last night?"
+
+"No; guess I haven't been getting exercise enough."
+
+He rose. Somehow, Watson bored him this morning.
+
+"I'm going to take a hike down the Avenue. S'long."
+
+Don secured his hat, gloves, and stick, and started from the club at a
+brisk clip.
+
+From Forty-fourth Street to the Twenties was as familiar a path as any
+in his life. He had traversed it probably a thousand times. Yet, this
+morning it suddenly became almost as strange as some street in Kansas
+City or San Francisco.
+
+There were three reasons for this, any one of which would have
+accounted for the phenomenon: he was on his way to secure a job; he
+had in his pocket just thirteen cents; and he was hungry.
+
+The stores before which he always stopped for a leisurely inspection
+of their contents took on a different air this morning. Quite
+automatically he paused before one and another of them and inspected
+the day's display of cravats and waistcoats. But, with only thirteen
+cents in his pocket, a new element entered into his consideration of
+these things--the element of cost. It was at the florist's that his
+situation was brought home to him even more keenly. Frances liked
+flowers, and she liked to receive them from him. Here were roses that
+looked as if they had been plucked for her. But they were behind a big
+plate-glass window. He had never noted before that, besides being
+transparent, plate-glass was also thick and hard. And he was hungry.
+The fact continually intruded itself.
+
+At last he reached the address that Barton had given him. "Carter,
+Rand & Seagraves, Investment Securities," read the inscription on the
+window. He passed through the revolving doors and entered the office.
+
+A boy in buttons approached and took his card.
+
+"Mr. Carter, Mr. Rand, or Mr. Seagraves," said Don.
+
+The boy was soon back.
+
+"Mr. Farnsworth will see you in a few minutes," he reported.
+
+"Farnsworth?" inquired Don.
+
+"He's the gent what sees every one," explained the boy. "Ticker's over
+there."
+
+He pointed to a small machine upon a stand, which was slowly unfurling
+from its mouth a long strip of paper such as prestidigitators produce
+from silk hats. Don crossed to it, and studied the strip with
+interest. It was spattered with cryptic letters and figures, much like
+those he had learned to use indifferently well in a freshman course in
+chemistry. The only ones he recalled just then were H_2O and CO_2, and
+he amused himself by watching to see if they turned up.
+
+"Mr. Pendleton?"
+
+Don turned to find a middle-aged gentleman standing before him with
+outstretched hand.
+
+"Mr. Barton wrote to us about you," Farnsworth continued briskly. "I
+believe he said you had no business experience."
+
+"No," admitted Don.
+
+"Harvard man?"
+
+Don named his class.
+
+"Your father was well known to us. We are willing to take you on for a
+few months, if you wish to try the work. Of course, until you learn
+something of the business you won't be of much value; but if you'd
+like to start at--say twenty-five dollars a week--why, we'd be glad to
+have you."
+
+At the beginning Don had a vague notion of estimating his value at
+considerably more; but Mr. Farnsworth was so decided, it did not seem
+worth while. At that moment, also, he was reminded again that he had
+not yet breakfasted.
+
+"Thanks," he replied. "When shall I begin?"
+
+"Whenever you wish. If you haven't anything on to-day, you might come
+in now, meet some of the men, and get your bearings."
+
+"All right," assented Don.
+
+Within the next five minutes Farnsworth had introduced him to Blake
+and Manson and Wheaton and Powers and Jennings and Chandler. Also to
+Miss Winthrop, a very busy stenographer. Then he left him in a chair
+by Powers's desk. Powers was dictating to Miss Winthrop, and Don
+became engrossed in watching the nimbleness of her fingers.
+
+At the end of his dictation, Powers excused himself and went out,
+leaving Don alone with Miss Winthrop. For a moment he felt a bit
+uncomfortable; he was not quite sure what the etiquette of a business
+office demanded in a situation of this sort. Soon, however, he
+realized that the question was solving itself by the fact that Miss
+Winthrop was apparently oblivious to his presence. If he figured in
+her consciousness any more than one of the office chairs, she gave no
+indication of it. She was transcribing from her notebook to the
+typewriter, and her fingers moved with marvelous dexterity and
+sureness. There was a sureness about every other movement, as when she
+slipped in a new sheet of paper or addressed an envelope or raised
+her head. There was a sureness in her eyes. He found himself quite
+unexpectedly staring into them once, and they didn't waver, although
+he was not quite certain, even then, that they saw him. They were
+brown eyes, honest and direct, above a good nose and a mouth that,
+while retaining its girlish mobility, also revealed an unexpected
+trace of almost manlike firmness. It was a face that interested him,
+but, before he was able to determine in just what way, she finished
+her last letter and, rising abruptly, disappeared into a rear room.
+Presently she emerged, wearing a hat and coat.
+
+It was, on the whole, a very becoming hat and a very becoming coat,
+though they would not have suited at all the critical taste of Frances
+Stuyvesant. But they had not been designed for that purpose.
+
+Miss Winthrop paused to readjust a pin and the angle of her hat. Then
+she took a swift glance about the office.
+
+"I guess the boys must have gone," she said to Don. "This is the lunch
+hour."
+
+Don rose.
+
+"Thank you for letting me know," he replied cordially.
+
+"Most of them get back at one," she informed him.
+
+"Then you think I may go out until then?"
+
+"I don't see why not. But I'd be back at one sharp if I were you."
+
+"Thanks, I will."
+
+Don gave her an opportunity to go out the door and disappear before he
+himself followed. He had a notion that she could have told him, had he
+asked, where in this neighborhood it was possible to get the most food
+for the least money. He had a notion, also, that such a question would
+not have shocked her. It was difficult to say by just what process he
+reached this conclusion, but he felt quite sure of it.
+
+Don was now firmly determined to invest a portion of his thirteen
+cents in something to eat. It had no longer become a matter of
+volition, but an acute necessity. For twenty minutes he wandered about
+rather aimlessly; then, in a sort of alley, he found a dairy lunch
+where in plain figures coffee was offered at five cents a cup, and egg
+sandwiches at the same price. The place was well filled, but he was
+fortunate in slipping into a chair against the wall just as a man was
+slipping out. It was a chair where one broad arm served as a table.
+Next to him sat a young woman in a black hat, munching a chocolate
+�clair. She looked up as he sat down, and frowned. Don rose at once.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know you were here. Honest I didn't."
+
+"Well, it's a public lunch, isn't it?" she inquired. "I'm almost
+through."
+
+"Then you don't mind if I stay?"
+
+"It's no business of mine," she said curtly.
+
+"But I don't want you to think I--I'm intruding."
+
+She glanced at him again.
+
+"Let's forget it," she decided. "But you might sit there all day and
+you wouldn't get anything to eat."
+
+He looked around, uncertain as to just what she meant.
+
+"You go to the counter, pick out what you want, and bring it back
+here," she explained. "I'll hold your seat for you."
+
+Don made his way into the crowd at the rear. At the counter he found
+he had for ten cents a wide choice; but her �clair had looked so good
+he selected one of those and a cup of coffee. In returning he lost a
+portion of the coffee, but he brought the �clair through safely. He
+deposited it on the arm of the chair and sat down. In spite of his
+utmost effort at self-control, that �clair made just four mouthfuls.
+It seemed to him that he had no more than picked up his fork than it
+was gone. However, he still had his coffee, and he settled back to
+enjoy that in a more temperate fashion.
+
+Without apparently taking the slightest interest in him, Miss Winthrop
+observed the rapidity with which he concluded his lunch. She knew
+something about being hungry, and if she was any judge that tidbit
+produced no more impression upon this six-foot man than a peanut on an
+elephant.
+
+"That all you're going to eat?" she demanded.
+
+Don was startled. The question was both unexpected and pointed. He met
+her eyes--brown eyes and very direct. The conventional explanation
+that he had ready about not caring for much in the middle of the day
+seemed scarcely worth while.
+
+"Yes," he answered.
+
+"Broke?" she inquired.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Then you ought to have had an egg sandwich instead of one of those
+things," she informed him.
+
+"But the one you had looked so good," he smiled.
+
+"I had an egg sandwich to start with; this was dessert."
+
+"I didn't know," he apologized.
+
+"You ought to get one now. You won't last until night on just that."
+
+"How much are they?" he inquired.
+
+"A nickel."
+
+"Then I guess I won't have one."
+
+"Haven't you five cents?" she cross-examined.
+
+"Only three cents," he answered.
+
+"And you begin work to-day?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It's only Tuesday, and you won't get paid until Saturday."
+
+"So?"
+
+"Do you expect to make that �clair go until then?"
+
+"I hadn't thought much about it," he answered uneasily.
+
+"You don't look as if you would," she said. "You are new to this,
+aren't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He did not resent her questioning; and it did not occur to him to give
+her an evasive reply.
+
+"Just out of college?"
+
+"Last fall."
+
+"What you been doing since then?"
+
+"Why, nothing," he admitted. "You see, my father died only last month,
+and--"
+
+"Oh, I see," she said more gently. "That's hard luck."
+
+"It makes a good deal of a difference," he said.
+
+"I know."
+
+It had made a difference in her life when her father died.
+
+She turned to her �clair; but, as she was raising the fork to her
+lips, she caught his eyes and put it down again.
+
+"Look here," she said; "you must eat something. You can't get along
+without food. I've tried it."
+
+"You!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Indeed, yes."
+
+"Dieting?"
+
+"Hardly," she replied grimly.
+
+He had heard of men going perforce without food, but he did not
+remember ever having heard of a woman in that predicament. Certainly
+he had never before met one.
+
+"You mean that you've gone broke, too?"
+
+"Why, certainly," she answered. "The firm I was with first went broke,
+and it was a couple of months before I found another position. But
+that's over now. What I want to know is what _you're_ going to do
+until Saturday."
+
+"Oh, I'll worry along," he answered confidently.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Worry won't carry you along."
+
+She hesitated a moment, and then said impulsively:--
+
+"Now, look here--don't get peeved at what I'm going to say, will
+you?"
+
+"I don't believe it's possible to get peeved with you," he declared.
+
+She frowned.
+
+"Well, let it go at that. What I want to do is to lend you a couple of
+dollars until Saturday. It isn't much, but--"
+
+Don caught his breath. "You--"
+
+She did not give him time to finish. From somewhere she produced a
+two-dollar bill and slipped it into his hand.
+
+"Take this and get an egg sandwich right now."
+
+"But look here--"
+
+"Don't talk. Go get a sandwich."
+
+He seemed to have no alternative; but when he came back with it she
+had disappeared.
+
+He sat down, but he could not understand why she should have gone like
+that. He missed her--missed her more than he would have thought
+possible, considering that he had met her only some two hours before.
+Without her this place seemed empty and foreign. Without her he felt
+uneasy here. He hurried through his sandwich and went out--anxious to
+get back to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+BUSINESS
+
+
+When Don came back to the office he found Miss Winthrop again at her
+typewriter, but she did not even glance up as he took his former place
+at Powers's desk. If this was not particularly flattering, it at least
+gave him the privilege of watching her. But it was rather curious that
+he found in this enough to hold his attention for half an hour. It is
+doubtful whether he could have watched Frances herself for so long a
+time without being bored.
+
+It was the touch of seriousness about the girl's eyes and mouth that
+now set him to wondering--a seriousness that he had sometimes noted in
+the faces of men who had seen much of life.
+
+Life--that was the keynote. He felt that she had been in touch with
+life, and had got the better of it: that there had been drama in her
+past, born of contact with men and women. She had been dealing with
+such problems as securing food--and his experience of the last
+twenty-four hours had hinted at how dramatic that may be; with
+securing lodgings for the night; with the problem of earning not more
+money but enough money to keep her alive. All this had left its mark,
+not in ugliness, but in a certain seriousness that made him keen to
+know about her. Here was a girl who was not especially concerned with
+operas, with books, with the drama, but with the stuff of which those
+things are made.
+
+Miss Winthrop removed from her typewriter the final page of the long
+letter she had finished and rapidly went over it for errors. She found
+none. But, as she gathered her papers together before taking them into
+the private office of Mr. Farnsworth, she spoke. She spoke without
+even then glancing at Don--as if voicing a thought to herself.
+
+"Believe me," she said, "they are not going to pay you for sitting
+there and watching me."
+
+Don felt the color spring to his cheeks.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized.
+
+"It doesn't bother me any," she continued, as she rose. "Only there
+isn't any money for the firm in that sort of thing."
+
+"But there doesn't seem to be anything around here for me to do."
+
+"Then make something," she concluded, as she moved away.
+
+Blake, to whom he had been introduced, was sitting at his desk reading
+an early edition of an evening paper. Spurred on by her admonition, he
+strolled over there. Blake glanced up with a nod.
+
+"How you making it?" he inquired.
+
+"There doesn't seem to be much for me to do," said Don. "Can you
+suggest anything?"
+
+"Farnsworth will dig up enough for you later on. I wouldn't worry
+about that."
+
+"But I don't know anything about the game."
+
+"You'll pick it up. Did I understand Farnsworth to say you were
+Harvard?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'm Princeton. Say, what sort of a football team have you this
+year?"
+
+Don knew football. He had played right end on the second team. He also
+knew Princeton, and if the information he gave Blake about the team
+ever went back to New Jersey it did not do the coaching staff there
+any good. However, it furnished a subject for a pleasant half hour's
+conversation. Then Blake went out, and Don returned to his former
+place back of Powers's desk.
+
+"I'll bet you didn't get much out of him," observed Miss Winthrop,
+without interrupting the click of her machine.
+
+"He seems rather a decent sort," answered Don.
+
+"Perhaps he is," she returned.
+
+"He's a Princeton man," Don informed her.
+
+"He's Percy A. Blake," she declared--as if that were a fact of
+considerably more importance.
+
+He waited to see if she was ready to volunteer any further information,
+but apparently she considered this sufficient.
+
+At that point Farnsworth came out and took a look about the office.
+His eyes fell upon Don, and he crossed the room.
+
+He handed Don a package.
+
+"I wish you would deliver these to Mr. Hayden, of Hayden & Wigglesworth,"
+he requested.
+
+Farnsworth returned to his office, leaving Don staring helplessly at
+the package in his hands.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, get busy!" exclaimed Miss Winthrop.
+
+"But where can I find Mr. Hayden?" inquired Don.
+
+"Get out of the office and look up the firm in a directory," she
+returned sharply. "But hustle out of here just as if you did know."
+
+Don seized his hat and obeyed. He found himself on the street, quite
+as ignorant of where to find a directory as he was of where to find
+Mr. Hayden, of Hayden & Wigglesworth. But in rounding a corner--still
+at full speed--he ran into a messenger boy.
+
+"Take me to the office of Hayden & Wigglesworth and there's a quarter
+in it for you," he offered.
+
+"I'm on," nodded the boy.
+
+The office was less than a five minutes' walk away. In another two
+minutes Don had left his package with Mr. Hayden's clerk and was back
+again in his own office.
+
+"Snappy work," Miss Winthrop complimented him. "The closing prices
+must be out by now. You'd better look them over."
+
+"Closing prices of what?" he inquired.
+
+"The market, of course. Ask Eddie--the boy at the ticker. He'll give
+you a sheet."
+
+So Don went over and asked Eddie, and was handed a list of closing
+quotations--which, for all he was concerned, might have been football
+signals. However, he sat down and looked them over, and continued to
+look them over until Farnsworth passed him on his way home.
+
+"You may as well go now," Farnsworth said. "You'll be here at nine
+to-morrow?"
+
+"Nine to-morrow," nodded Don.
+
+He returned to Miss Winthrop's desk.
+
+"He says I may go now," he reported.
+
+"Then I'd go," she advised.
+
+"But I--I want to thank you."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, don't!" she exploded. "I'm busy."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+He took the Subway back to the Grand Central, and walked from there to
+the club. Here he found a message from Frances:--
+
+Dad sent up a box for the theater to-night. Will you come to dinner
+and go with us?
+
+When Don, after dressing, left his house for the Stuyvesants' that
+evening, it was with a curious sense of self-importance. He now had
+the privilege of announcing to his friends that he was in business in
+New York--in the banking business--with Carter, Rand & Seagraves, as a
+matter of fact. He walked with a freer stride and swung his stick with
+a jauntier air than he had yesterday.
+
+He was full of this when, a few minutes before dinner, Frances swept
+down the stairs.
+
+"I'm glad you could come, Don," she said. "But where in the world have
+you been all day?"
+
+"Downtown," he answered. "I'm with Carter, Rand & Seagraves now."
+
+He made the announcement with considerable pride.
+
+"Poor Don!" she murmured. "But, if you're going to do that sort of
+thing, I suppose you might as well be with them as any one. I wonder
+if that Seagraves is Dolly Seagraves's father."
+
+For a second he was disappointed--he had expected more enthusiasm from
+her.
+
+"I haven't met the families of the firm yet," he answered.
+
+"I thought you knew Dolly. I'll ask her up for my next afternoon, to
+meet you."
+
+"But I can't come in the afternoon, Frances."
+
+"How stupid! You're to be downtown all day?"
+
+"From nine to three or later."
+
+"I'm not sure I'm going to like that."
+
+"Then you'll have to speak to Farnsworth," he laughed.
+
+"Farnsworth?"
+
+"He's the manager."
+
+"I imagine he's very disagreeable. Oh, Don, please hurry and make your
+fortune and have it over with!"
+
+"You ought to give me more than one day, anyhow."
+
+"I'll give you till June," she smiled. "I really got sort of homesick
+for you to-day, Don."
+
+"Honest?"
+
+"Honest, Don. I've no business to tell you such a secret, but it's
+true."
+
+"I'm glad you told me," he answered soberly. "What have you been doing
+all day?"
+
+"I had a stupid morning at the tailor's, and a stupid bridge in the
+afternoon at the Martins'. Oh, I lost a disgraceful lot of money."
+
+"How much?" he inquired.
+
+She shook her head. "I won't tell; but that's why I told Dad he must
+take me to see something cheerful this evening."
+
+"Tough luck," he sympathized.
+
+They went in to dinner. Afterward the Stuyvesant car took them all to
+a vaudeville house, and there, from the rear of a box, Don watched
+with indifferent interest the usual vaudeville turns. To tell the
+truth, he would have been better satisfied to have sat at the piano at
+home and had Frances sing to him. There were many things he had wished
+to talk over with her. He had not told her about the other men he had
+met, his adventure on his first business assignment, his search for a
+place to lunch, or--Miss Winthrop. Until that moment he had not
+thought of her himself.
+
+A singing team made their appearance and began to sing sentimental
+ballads concerned with apple blossoms in Normandy. Don's thoughts
+went back, strangely enough, to the white-tiled restaurant in the
+alley. He smiled as he contrived a possible title for a popular song
+of this same nature. "The White-Tiled Restaurant in the Alley" it
+might read, and it might have something to do with "Sally."
+Perhaps Miss Winthrop's first name was Sally--it fitted her well
+enough. She had been funny about that chocolate �clair. And she had
+lent him two dollars. Unusual incident, that! He wondered where she
+was to-night--where she went after she left the office at night.
+Perhaps she was here. He leaned forward to look at the faces of people
+in the audience. Then the singing stopped, and a group of Japanese
+acrobats occupied the stage.
+
+Frances turned, suppressing a yawn.
+
+"I suppose one of them will hang by his teeth in a minute," she
+observed. "I wish he wouldn't. It makes me ache."
+
+"It is always possible to leave," he suggested.
+
+"But Mother so enjoys the pictures."
+
+"Then, by all means, let's stay."
+
+"They always put them at the end. Oh, dear me, I don't think I shall
+ever come again."
+
+"I enjoyed the singing," he confessed.
+
+"Oh, Don, it was horrible!"
+
+"Still, that song about the restaurant in the alley--"
+
+"The _what?_" she exclaimed.
+
+"Wasn't it that or was it apple blossoms? Anyhow, it was good."
+
+"Of course there's no great difference between restaurants in alleys
+and apple blossoms in Normandy!" she commented.
+
+"Not so much as you'd think," he smiled.
+
+It was eleven before they were back at the house. Then Stuyvesant
+wanted a rarebit and Frances made it, so that it was after one before
+Don reached his own home.
+
+Not until Nora, in obedience to a note he had left downstairs for her,
+called him at seven-thirty the next morning did Don realize he had
+kept rather late hours for a business man. Bit by bit, the events of
+yesterday came back to him; and in the midst of it, quite the central
+figure, stood Miss Winthrop. It was as if she were warning him not to
+be late. He jumped from bed.
+
+But, even at that, it was a quarter-past eight before he came
+downstairs. Nora was anxiously waiting for him.
+
+"You did not order breakfast, sir," she reminded him.
+
+"Why, that's so," he admitted.
+
+"Shall I prepare it for you now?"
+
+"Never mind. I haven't time to wait, anyway. You see, I must be
+downtown at nine. I'm in business, Nora."
+
+"Yes, sir; but you should eat your breakfast, sir."
+
+He shook his head. "I think I'll try going without breakfast this
+week. Besides, I didn't send up any provisions."
+
+Nora appeared uneasy. She did not wish to be bold, and yet she did not
+wish her late master's son to go downtown hungry.
+
+"An egg and a bit of toast, sir? I'm sure the cook could spare that."
+
+"Out of her own breakfast?"
+
+"I--I beg your pardon, sir," stammered Nora; "but it's all part of the
+house, isn't it?"
+
+"No," he answered firmly. "We must play the game fair, Nora."
+
+"And dinner, sir?"
+
+"Dinner? Let's not worry about that as early in the morning as this."
+
+He started to leave, but at the door turned again.
+
+"If you should want me during the day, you'll find me at my office
+with Carter, Rand & Seagraves. Better write that down."
+
+"I will, sir."
+
+"Good-day, Nora."
+
+Don took the Subway this morning, in company with several hundred
+thousand others for whom this was as much a routine part of their
+daily lives as the putting on of a hat. He had seen all these people
+coming and going often enough before, but never before had he felt
+himself as coming and going with them. Now he was one of them. He did
+not resent it. In fact, he felt a certain excitement about it. But it
+was new--almost foreign.
+
+It was with some difficulty that he found his way from the station to
+his office. This so delayed him that he was twenty minutes late. Miss
+Winthrop, who was hard at work when he entered, paused a second to
+glance at the watch pinned to her dress.
+
+"I'm only twenty minutes late," he apologized to her.
+
+"A good many things can happen around Wall Street in twenty minutes,"
+she answered.
+
+"I guess I'll have to leave the house a little earlier."
+
+"I'd do something to get here on time," she advised. "Out late last
+night?"
+
+"Not very. I was in bed a little after one."
+
+"I thought so."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You look it."
+
+She brought the conversation to an abrupt end by resuming her work.
+
+He wanted to ask her in just what way he looked it. He felt a bit
+hollow; but that was because he hadn't breakfasted. His eyes, too,
+were still a little heavy; but that was the result, not of getting to
+bed late, but of getting up too early.
+
+She, on the other hand, appeared fresher than she had yesterday at
+noon. Her eyes were brighter and there was more color in her cheeks.
+Don had never seen much of women in the forenoon. As far as he was
+concerned, Frances did not exist before luncheon. But what experience
+he had led him to believe that Miss Winthrop was an exception--that
+most women continued to freshen toward night and were at their best at
+dinner-time.
+
+"Mr. Pendleton." It was Eddie. "Mr. Farnsworth wants to see you in his
+office."
+
+Farnsworth handed Don a collection of circulars describing some of the
+securities the firm was offering.
+
+"Better familiarize yourself with these," he said briefly. "If there
+is anything in them you don't understand, ask one of the other men."
+
+That was all. In less than three minutes Don was back again at
+Powers's desk. He glanced through one of the circulars, which had to
+do with a certain electric company offering gold bonds at a price to
+net four and a half. He read it through once and then read it through
+again. It contained a great many figures--figures running into the
+millions, whose effect was to make twenty-five dollars a week shrink
+into insignificance. On the whole, it was decidedly depressing
+reading--the more so because he did not understand it.
+
+He wondered what Miss Winthrop did when she was tired, where she lived
+and how she lived, if she played bridge, if she spent her summers
+abroad, who her parents were, whether she was eighteen or twenty-two
+or -three, and if she sang. All of which had nothing to do with the
+affairs of the company that wished to dispose of its gold bonds at a
+price to net four and a half.
+
+At twelve Miss Winthrop rose from her machine and sought her hat in
+the rear of the office. At twelve-five she came back, passed him as if
+he had been an empty chair, and went out the door. At twelve-ten he
+followed. He made his way at once to the restaurant in the alley. She
+was not in the chair she had occupied yesterday, but farther back.
+Happily, the chair next to her was empty.
+
+"Will you hold this for me?" he asked.
+
+"Better drop your hat in it," she suggested rather coldly.
+
+He obeyed the suggestion, and a minute later returned with a cup of
+coffee and an egg sandwich. She was gazing indifferently across the
+room as he sat down, but he called her attention to his lunch.
+
+"You see, I got one of these things to-day."
+
+"So?"
+
+"Do you eat it with a fork or pick it up in your fingers?" he asked.
+
+She turned involuntarily to see if he was serious. She could not tell,
+but it was a fact he looked perplexed.
+
+"Oh, pick it up in your fingers," she exclaimed. "But look here; are
+you coming here every day?"
+
+"Sure," he nodded. "Why not?"
+
+"Because, if you are, I'm going to find another place."
+
+"You--what?" he gasped.
+
+"I'm going to find another place."
+
+The sandwich was halfway to his lips. He put it down again.
+
+"What have I done?" he demanded.
+
+She was avoiding his eyes.
+
+"Oh, it isn't you," she answered. "But if the office ever found
+out--"
+
+"Well," he insisted.
+
+"It would make a lot of talk, that's all," she concluded quickly. "I
+can't afford it."
+
+"Whom would they talk about?"
+
+"Oh, they wouldn't talk about you--that's sure."
+
+"They would talk about you?"
+
+"They certainly would."
+
+"What would they say?"
+
+"You think it over," she replied. "The thing you want to remember is
+that I'm only a stenographer there, and you--well, if you make good
+you'll be a member of the firm some day."
+
+"I don't see what that has to do with where you eat or where I eat."
+
+"It hasn't, as long as we don't eat at the same place. Can't you see
+that?"
+
+She raised her eyes and met his.
+
+"I see now," he answered soberly. "They'll think I'm getting fresh
+with you?"
+
+"They'll think I'm letting you get fresh," she answered, lowering her
+eyes.
+
+"But you don't think that yourself?"
+
+"I don't know," she answered slowly. "I used to think I could tell;
+but now--oh, I don't know!"
+
+"But good Heavens! you've been a regular little trump to me. You've
+even lent me the money to buy my lunches with. Do you think any man
+could be so low down--"
+
+"Those things aren't fit to eat when they're cold," she warned him.
+
+He shoved his plate aside and leaned toward her. "Do you think--"
+
+"No, no, no!" she exclaimed. "Only, it isn't what _I_ think that
+matters."
+
+"That's the only thing in this case that does matter," he returned.
+
+"You wait until you know Blake," she answered.
+
+"Of course, if any one is to quit here, it is I," he said.
+
+"You'd better stay where you are," she answered. "I know a lot of
+other places just like this."
+
+"Well, I can find them, can't I?"
+
+She laughed--a contagious little laugh.
+
+"I'm not so sure," she replied.
+
+"You don't think much of my ability, do you?" he returned, somewhat
+nettled.
+
+She lifted her eyes at that.
+
+"If you want to know the truth," she said, "I do. And I've seen a lot
+of 'em come and go."
+
+He reacted curiously to this unexpected praise. His color heightened
+and unconsciously he squared his shoulders.
+
+"Thanks," he said. "Then you ought to trust me to be able to find
+another lunch-place. Besides, you forget I found this myself. Are you
+going to have an �clair to-day?"
+
+She nodded and started to rise.
+
+"Sit still; I'll get it for you."
+
+Before she could protest he was halfway to the counter. She sat back
+in her chair with an expression that was half-frown and half-smile.
+
+When he came back she slipped a nickel upon the arm of his chair.
+
+"What's this for?" he demanded.
+
+"For the �clair, of course."
+
+"You--you needn't have done that."
+
+"I'll pay my own way, thank you," she answered, her face hardening a
+little.
+
+"Now you're offended again?"
+
+"No; only--oh, can't you see we--I must find another place?"
+
+"No, I don't," he answered.
+
+"Then that proves it," she replied. "And now I'm going back to the
+office."
+
+He rose at once to go with her.
+
+"Please to sit right where you are for five minutes," she begged.
+
+He sat down again and watched her as she hurried out the door. The
+moment she disappeared the place seemed curiously empty--curiously
+empty and inane. He stared at the white-tiled walls, at the heaps of
+pastry upon the marble counter, prepared as for wholesale. Yet, as
+long as she sat here with him, he had noticed none of those details.
+For all he was conscious of his surroundings, they might have been
+lunching together in that subdued, pink-tinted room where he so often
+took Frances.
+
+He started as he thought of her. Then he smiled contentedly. He must
+have Frances to lunch with him in the pink-tinted dining-room next
+Saturday.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+TWO GIRLS
+
+
+That night, when Miss Winthrop took her place in the Elevated on her
+way to the uptown room that made her home, she dropped her evening
+paper in her lap, and, chin in hand, stared out of the window. That
+was decidedly unusual. It was so unusual that a young man who had
+taken this same train with her month after month, and who had rather a
+keen eye for such things, noticed for the first time that she had in
+profile rather an attractive face. She was wondering just how
+different this Pendleton was from the other men she met. Putting aside
+for a moment all generalizations affecting the sex as a whole, he was
+not like any of them. For the first time in a long while she found
+herself inclined to accept a man for just what he appeared to be. It
+was difficult not to believe in Pendleton's eyes, and still more
+difficult not to believe in his smile, which made her smile back. And
+yet, if she had learned anything, those were the very things in a man
+she had learned to question.
+
+Not that she was naturally cynical, but her downtown experience had
+left her very skeptical about her ability to judge men from such
+details. Blake, for instance, could smile as innocently as a child and
+meet any woman's eyes without flinching. But there was this difference
+between Blake and Pendleton: the latter was new to New York. He was
+fresh to the city, as four years ago she had been. In those days she
+had dreamed of such a man as Pendleton--a dream that she was sure she
+had long since forgotten. Four years was a long while. It gave her
+rather a motherly feeling as she thought of Pendleton from that
+distance. And she rather enjoyed that. It left her freer to continue
+thinking of him. This she did until she was almost carried beyond her
+street.
+
+After that she almost forgot to stop at the delicatessen store for her
+rolls and butter and cold meat. She hurried with them to her
+room--hurried because she was anxious to reach the place where she was
+more at liberty than anywhere else on earth. She tossed aside her hat
+and coat and sat by the radiator to warm her hands.
+
+She wondered if Pendleton would go the same way Blake had gone. It was
+so very easy to go the one way or the other. Farnsworth himself never
+helped. His theory was to allow new men to work out their own
+salvation, and to fire them if they did not. He had done that with
+young Brown, who came in last year; and it had seemed to her then a
+pity--though she had never liked Brown. This was undoubtedly what he
+would do with Pendleton.
+
+But supposing--well, why shouldn't she take an interest in Pendleton
+to the extent of preventing such a finish if she could? There need be
+nothing personal in such an interest; she could work it out as an
+experiment.
+
+Miss Winthrop, now thoroughly warm, began to prepare her supper. She
+spread a white cloth upon her table, which was just large enough to
+seat one. She placed upon this one plate, one cup and saucer, one
+knife and fork and spoon. It was a very simple matter to prepare
+supper for one. She sliced her small portion of cold meat and placed
+this on the table. She removed her rolls from a paper bag and placed
+them beside the cold meat. By this time the hot water was ready, and
+she took a pinch of tea, put it in her tea-ball, and poured hot water
+over it in her cup. Then she took her place in the one chair.
+
+But, oddly enough, although there was no place for him, another seemed
+to be with her in the room.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Let me have your engagement-book a moment," Frances requested.
+
+Don complied. He had taken his dinner that night at the dairy lunch,
+and after returning to the house to dress had walked to his
+fianc�e's.
+
+Frances puckered her brows.
+
+"You are to have a very busy time these next few weeks," she informed
+him. "Let me see--to-day is Wednesday. On Friday we are to go to the
+Moores'. Evelyn's d�butante dance, you know."
+
+She wrote it in his book.
+
+"On Saturday we go to the opera. The Warringtons have asked us to a
+box party."
+
+She wrote that.
+
+"Next Wednesday comes the Stanley cotillion. Have you received your
+invitation?"
+
+"Haven't seen it," he answered.
+
+"The Stanleys are always unpardonably late, but I helped Elise make
+out her list. On the following Friday we dine at the Westons'."
+
+She wrote that.
+
+"On the following Saturday I'm to give a box party at the opera--the
+Moores and Warringtons."
+
+She added that, and looked over the list.
+
+"And I suppose, after going to this trouble, I'll have to remind you
+all over again on the day of each event."
+
+"Oh, I don't know; but--" He hesitated.
+
+"Well?" she demanded.
+
+"Seems to me we are getting pretty gay, aren't we?"
+
+"Don't talk like an old man!" she scolded. "So far, this has been a
+very stupid season."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"You know, now I'm in business--"
+
+"Please don't remind me of that any more than is necessary," she
+interrupted.
+
+"Oh, all right; only, I do have to get up in the morning."
+
+"Why remind me of that? It's disagreeable enough having to think of it
+even occasionally."
+
+"But I do, you know."
+
+"I know it, Don. Honestly I do."
+
+She seated herself on the arm of his chair, with an arm about his neck
+and her cheek against his hair.
+
+"And I think it quite too bad," she assured him--"which is why I don't
+like to talk about it."
+
+She sprang to her feet again.
+
+"Now, Don, you must practice with me some of the new steps. You'll get
+very rusty if you don't."
+
+"I'd rather hear you sing," he ventured.
+
+"This is much more important," she replied.
+
+She placed a Maxixe record on the Victrola that stood by the piano;
+then she held out her arms to him.
+
+"Poor old hard-working Don!" she laughed as he rose.
+
+It was true that it was as poor old hard-working Don he moved toward
+her. But there was magic in her lithe young body; there was magic in
+her warm hand; there was magic in her swimming eyes. As he fell into
+the rhythm of the music and breathed the incense of her hair, he was
+whirled into another world--a world of laughter and melody and
+care-free fairies. But the two most beautiful fairies of all were her
+two beautiful eyes, which urged him to dance faster and faster, and
+which left him in the end stooping, with short breaths, above her
+upturned lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ROSES
+
+
+When Miss Winthrop changed her mind and consented not to seek a new
+luncheon place, she was taking a chance, and she knew it. If ever
+Blake heard of the new arrangement,--and he was sure to hear of it if
+any one ever saw her there with Don,--she was fully aware how he would
+interpret it to the whole office.
+
+She was taking a chance, and she knew it--knew it with a curious sense
+of elation. She was taking a chance for him. This hour at noon was the
+only opportunity she had of talking to Don. If she let that pass, then
+she could do nothing more for him. She must stand back and watch him
+go his own way, as others had gone their way.
+
+For one thing was certain: she could allow no further conversations in
+the office. She had been forced to stop those, and had warned him that
+he must not speak to her again there except on business, and that he
+must not sit at Powers's desk and watch her at work. When he had
+challenged her for a reason, she had blushed; then she had replied
+simply:--
+
+"It isn't business."
+
+So, when on Saturday morning Don came in heavy-eyed for lack of sleep
+after the Moore dance, she merely looked up and nodded and went on
+with her work. But she studied him a dozen times when he did not know
+she was studying him, and frowned every time he suppressed, with
+difficulty, a yawn. He appeared tired--dead tired.
+
+For the first time in months she found herself looking forward to
+the noon hour. She glanced at her watch at eleven-thirty, at
+eleven-forty-five, and again at five minutes before twelve.
+
+To-day she reserved a seat for him in the little lunch-room. But at
+fifteen minutes past twelve, when Don usually strode in the door, he
+had not come. At twenty minutes past he had not come. If he did not
+come in another five minutes she resolved to make no further effort to
+keep his place--either to-day or at any future time. At first she was
+irritated; then she was worried. It was possible he was lunching with
+Blake. If he began that--well, she would be freed of all further
+responsibility, for one thing. But at this point Don entered. He made
+no apologies for having kept her waiting, but deposited in the empty
+chair, as he went off for his sandwich and coffee, a long, narrow box
+done up in white paper. She gave him time to eat a portion of his
+lunch before she asked:--
+
+"Out late again last night?"
+
+"Went to a dance," he nodded.
+
+She was relieved to hear that. It was a better excuse than some, but
+still it was not a justifiable excuse for a man who needed all his
+energies.
+
+"You didn't get enough sleep, then."
+
+"I should say not," Don admitted cheerfully. "In bed at four and up at
+seven."
+
+"You look it."
+
+"And I feel it."
+
+"You can't keep that up long."
+
+"Sunday's coming, and I'm going to sleep all day," he declared.
+
+"But what's the use of getting into that condition?" she inquired.
+
+He thought a moment.
+
+"Well, I don't suppose a man can cut off everything just because he's
+in business."
+
+"That's part of the business--at the beginning," she returned.
+
+"To work all the time?"
+
+"To work all the time," she nodded. "I wish I had your chance."
+
+"My chance to work?" he laughed.
+
+"Your chance to get ahead," she answered. "It's all so easy--for a
+man!"
+
+"Easy?"
+
+"You don't have to do anything but keep straight and keep at work. You
+ought to have taken those circulars home with you last night and
+learned them by heart."
+
+"I've read 'em. But, hang it all, they don't mean anything."
+
+"Then find out what they mean. Keep at it until you do find out. The
+firm isn't going to pay you for what you _don't_ know."
+
+"But last night--well, a man has to get around a little bit."
+
+"Around where?" she questioned him.
+
+"Among his friends. Doesn't he?"
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"It seems to me you'll have to choose between dances and business."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Between dances and business. I tell you, this next six months is
+going to count a lot on how you make good with Farnsworth."
+
+"Well, he isn't the only one," he said.
+
+"He's the only one in this office--I know what I'm talking about."
+
+"But outside the office--"
+
+She put down her fork.
+
+"I don't know why I'm mixing up in your business," she declared
+earnestly. "Except that I've been here three years now, and have seen
+men come and go. Every time they've gone it has been clear as daylight
+why they went. Farnsworth is square. He hasn't much heart in him, but
+he's square. And he has eyes in the back of his head."
+
+She raised her own eyes and looked swiftly about the room as if she
+half-expected to discover him here.
+
+"What's the matter?" he inquired.
+
+She did not answer his question, but as she ran on again she lowered
+her voice:--
+
+"You've been in his office to-day?"
+
+"He gave me some more circulars," Don admitted.
+
+"Then you'd better believe he knew you didn't get to bed last night
+until 4 a.m. And you'd better believe he has tucked that away in his
+mind somewhere."
+
+Don appeared worried.
+
+"He didn't say anything."
+
+"No, he didn't say anything. He doesn't say anything until he has a
+whole collection of those little things. Even then he doesn't say
+much; but what he does say--counts."
+
+"You don't think he's getting ready to fire me?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"He's always getting ready," she answered. "He's always getting ready
+to fire or advance you. That's the point," she went on more earnestly.
+"What I don't understand is why the men who come in here aren't
+getting ready too. I don't see why they don't play the game. I might
+stay with the firm twenty years and I'd still be pounding a
+typewriter. But you--"
+
+She raised her eyes to his. She saw that Don's had grown less dull,
+and her own warmed with this initial success.
+
+"You used to play football, didn't you?" she asked.
+
+"A little."
+
+"Then you ought to know something about doing things hard; and you
+ought to know something about keeping in training."
+
+"But look here, it seems to me you take this mighty seriously."
+
+"Farnsworth does," she corrected. "That's why he's getting ten
+thousand a year."
+
+The figures recalled a vivid episode.
+
+"Ten thousand a year," he repeated after her. "Is that what he
+draws?"
+
+"That's what they say. Anyway, he's worth it."
+
+"And you think I--I might make a job like that?"
+
+"I'll bet I'd try for it if I were in your boots," she answered
+earnestly.
+
+"I'll bet you'd land it if you were in my boots." He raised his
+coffee-cup. "Here's to the ten thousand a year," he drank.
+
+Miss Winthrop rose. She had talked more than she intended, and was
+somewhat irritated at herself. If, for a second, she thought she had
+accomplished something, she did not think so now, as he too rose and
+smiled at her. He handed her the pasteboard box.
+
+"Your two dollars is in there," he explained.
+
+She looked perplexed.
+
+"Shall I wait five minutes?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, as he thrust the box into her hands.
+
+That box worried her all the afternoon. Not having a chance to open
+it, she hid it beneath her desk, where it distracted her thoughts
+until evening. Of course she could not open it on the Elevated, so it
+lay in her lap, still further to distract her thoughts on the way
+home. It seemed certain that a two-dollar bill could not occupy all
+that space.
+
+She did not wait even to remove her hat before opening it in her room.
+She found a little envelope containing her two-dollar bill nestling in
+five dollars' worth of roses.
+
+It was about as foolish a thing as she had ever known a man to do.
+
+She placed the flowers on the table when she had her supper. All night
+long they filled the room with their fragrance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A MAN OF AFFAIRS
+
+
+When, with some eighteen dollars in his pocket, Don on Sunday ordered
+Nora to prepare for him on that day and during the following week a
+breakfast of toast, eggs, and coffee, he felt very much a man of
+affairs. He was paying for his own sustenance, and with the first
+money he had ever earned. He drew from his pocket a ten-dollar bill, a
+five-dollar bill, a two-dollar bill, and some loose change.
+
+"Pick out what you need," he ordered, as he held the money toward
+her.
+
+"I don't know how much it will be, sir. I'll ask the cook, sir."
+
+"Very well; ask the cook. About dinners--I think I'd better wait until
+I see how I'm coming out. Dinners don't matter so much, any way,
+because they come after I'm through work."
+
+Don ate his breakfast in the dining-room before the open fire, as his
+father used to do. In smoking-jacket and slippered feet, he enjoyed
+this as a rare luxury--even this matter of breakfasting at home, which
+until now had been merely a negative detail of routine.
+
+When he had finished he drew his chair closer to the flames and
+lighted a cigarette. He had been cutting down on cigarettes. He had
+always bought them by the hundred; he was now buying them by the box.
+Until this week he never realized that they represented money. He was
+paying now twenty-five cents for a box of ten; and twenty-five cents,
+as he had learned in the restaurant in the alley, was a sum of money
+with tremendous possibilities. It would buy, for one thing, five egg
+sandwiches; and five egg sandwiches would keep a man from being
+uncomfortably hungry a good many hours.
+
+Thus a quarter, from being merely an odd piece of loose change, took
+on a vital, tangible character of its own. Translated into smokes, it
+gave a smoke a new value. He had started in to make a box of
+cigarettes last a day; but he was now resolved to make them last two
+days. This allowed him one after each meal and two in the evening.
+
+If at first he had considered this a hardship, he was beginning to
+appreciate the fact that it had its compensating advantages. This
+morning, for instance, he felt that he had never tasted such good
+tobacco in his life. Like his breakfast, it was a pleasure to be
+prolonged--to give his thought to. He smoked slowly and carefully and
+keenly. With his head against the back of his chair, he watched the
+white cloudlets curl upward after he had inhaled their fragrance. This
+was no dull habit indulged in automatically.
+
+In this moment of indulgence his thoughts turned to Miss Winthrop. It
+was nearing twelve, and perhaps this had something to do with it. He
+was going to miss that luncheon hour. He had come to look forward to
+it as quite the most interesting event of the day. From his
+comfortable position before the fire, he wondered why.
+
+It was impossible to say she had any definite physical attractions,
+although her eyes were not bad. They piqued a man's curiosity, those
+eyes. One remembered them. That was true also of her mouth. Don had no
+very definite notion of its exact shape, but he remembered how it
+surprised one by changing from the tenderness of a young girl's mouth
+to the firmness of a man's a dozen times in the course of a few
+minutes' conversation.
+
+It was quarter-past twelve. If he had known her telephone number he
+would have called her up now, just to say "Hello." He would be taking
+a chance, however; for, as likely as not, she would inquire what he
+was doing, and would, he felt sure, scold him for having so late a
+breakfast.
+
+Odd, that a woman should be so energetic! He had always thought of
+them as quite the opposite. Leisureliness was a prerogative of the
+sex. He had always understood that it was a woman's right to pamper
+herself.
+
+Undoubtedly she would object to his sitting on here before the open
+fire. Farnsworth would not waste a morning like this--he seemed to
+hear her telling him so. If he wanted that ten thousand a year, he
+ought to be working on those circulars. A man was not paid for what he
+didn't know. Here, with nothing else to do, was a good time to get
+after them. Well, he had gone so far as to bring them home with him.
+
+He rose reluctantly, went upstairs to his room, and brought them down.
+He began on the electric company which was offering gold bonds at a
+price to net four and a half per cent. Then Nora came in to call him
+to the telephone.
+
+"Who is it, Nora?"
+
+"Miss Stuyvesant, sir."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+He hurried to the telephone.
+
+"Good-morning, Frances."
+
+"Dad and Mother have gone to church and it's very stupid here," she
+complained. "Can't you come over?"
+
+He hesitated the fraction of a second.
+
+"Oh, of course,--if you don't want to,--" she began quickly.
+
+"It isn't that, Frances. Of course I want to come; only, there were
+some papers I brought home from the office--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I can go over them some other time. I'll be right up."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+A discovery that encouraged Don the following week was that by some
+unconscious power of absorption he grew sufficiently familiar with the
+financial jargon of the office to feel that it really was within the
+possibilities that some day he might understand it fully. He found
+several opportunities to talk with Powers, and the latter, after
+recovering from his surprise at the primitive nature of some of Don's
+questions about notes and bonds, went to some trouble to answer them.
+Not only that, but he mentioned certain books that might supply fuller
+and more fundamental information.
+
+"I know these sound like fool questions," Don apologized, "but I've
+never been down in this end of the town much."
+
+"That's all right," replied Powers. "Come to me any time you're
+stuck."
+
+After Powers went out, Don sat down and tried to recall some of the
+things he had been told. He remembered some of them and some of them
+he didn't. But that day at lunch Miss Winthrop handed him a
+stenographic report of the entire conversation. Don looked over it in
+amazement. It was in the form of question and answer.
+
+_Mr. Pendleton:_ Say, old man, what is a gold bond, anyway?
+
+_Mr. Powers:_ I beg your pardon?
+
+And so on down to Don's final apology.
+
+_Mr. Pendleton:_ I know these sound like fool questions--
+
+_Mr. Powers:_ That's all right--
+
+"Read it over in your spare time," advised Miss Winthrop; "then you
+won't ask him the same questions twice."
+
+"But how in thunder did you get this?" he inquired.
+
+"I wasn't busy just then, and took it down. I knew you'd forget half
+he told you."
+
+"It was mighty good of you," he answered. "But I wish you had left out
+my talk. Now that I see it in type, it sounds even more foolish than I
+thought it was."
+
+"I've seen a lot of things that didn't turn out well in type," she
+nodded. "But you needn't read that part of it. What Powers said was
+worth while. He knows what he's talking about, and that's why he's the
+best bond salesman in the house."
+
+"What sort of a salary does _he_ draw?"
+
+"I don't know," she answered. "And if I were you I'd forget the salary
+end of my job for a while."
+
+"It's a mighty important end," he declared.
+
+"I don't see it," she returned frankly. "I suppose you're starting on
+twenty-five?"
+
+"That's all," he admitted.
+
+"It's all you're worth. Any one to support besides yourself?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then what you worrying about?"
+
+"But, good Heavens, a man can't live on that--any length of time."
+
+"Can't? I know men who support a wife and children on less."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"And do it decently," she nodded. "I live on half of that myself."
+
+"You?"
+
+"Of course. Did you think I drew a salary like Farnsworth?"
+
+She laughed at his open astonishment. It appeared genuine.
+
+"You live on half of twenty-five dollars a week?" he repeated.
+
+She did not care to pursue the subject. It was a bit too personal.
+
+"So do hundreds of thousands of others," she informed him. "On that
+and less than that. Now, you put that paper away in your pocket, and
+don't ask Powers another question until you know it by heart. Then get
+after him again. When you run across something you don't know, why
+don't you write it down?"
+
+He took out his engagement-book on the spot and made an entry.
+
+"I've written down that you say it's possible to live on twenty-five
+dollars a week," he informed her, as he replaced the book in his
+pocket.
+
+"Don't be silly," she warned. "You'd better write down something about
+not worrying about your salary at all."
+
+"I'll do that," he returned.
+
+He took out his engagement-book again and scribbled a line.
+
+"Miss Winthrop says not to worry about my salary."
+
+[Illustration: "CAN'T? I KNOW MEN WHO SUPPORT A WIFE AND CHILDREN ON
+LESS"]
+
+"I didn't say it," she protested.
+
+"Them's your very words."
+
+"I mean--" she grew really confused. "I mean--you needn't put it down
+that I said it. You ought to say it to yourself."
+
+He shook his head. "That's too deep for me."
+
+"Then let's drop the subject," she answered curtly. "Only don't get
+the idea that it's I who am worrying about your salary, one way or the
+other."
+
+"No need of getting peeved about it," he suggested.
+
+"Not in the slightest," she agreed.
+
+But she did not wait for her �clair, and went back to the office in
+anything but a good humor.
+
+On the whole, Miss Winthrop was rather disappointed in him as a result
+of this last interview--the more so because he had begun the day so
+well. Her hopes had risen high at the way he approached Powers, and at
+the seriousness with which he had listened to what Powers had to say.
+He had acted like a man eager to learn. Then he had spoiled it all by
+placing undue emphasis on the salary end.
+
+This new development in Pendleton came as a surprise. It did not seem
+consistent with his nature as she read it in his eyes. It was not in
+character. It left her doubting her judgment about him along other
+lines. She did not object to his ambition. That was essential. He
+ought to work for Farnsworth's position--but for the position, not the
+salary. The position stood for power based upon ability. That was the
+sort of success she would be keen about if she were a man.
+
+Curious, too, that Mr. Pendleton should be so keen about money in this
+one direction. She had thought his tendency all the other way, and had
+made a mental note that sometime she must drive home to him a few
+facts about having a decent respect for money. A man who would return
+the loan of a two-dollar bill in five dollars' worth of roses was not
+the sort of man one expected to have a vaulting ambition for thousands
+for their own sake. One thing was sure--he was not the type of man who
+ought to occupy so much of her attention on a busy afternoon.
+
+At a few minutes before five, just as Miss Winthrop was jabbing the
+last pin into her hat, a messenger boy hurried into the office with a
+parcel bearing a noticeable resemblance to a one-pound candy box. He
+inquired of Eddie for Miss Winthrop, and Eddie, with considerable
+ceremony, escorted the boy to the desk of that astonished young
+woman.
+
+"Sign here," the boy ordered.
+
+Miss Winthrop gave a swift glance around the office. Mr. Pendleton was
+at work at Powers's desk and didn't even look up. It was a remarkable
+exhibition of concentration on his part. Blake, however, swung around
+in his chair and raised his brows.
+
+Miss Winthrop seized the pencil and wrote her name, dotting the "i"
+and crossing the "t" with vicious jabs. Then she picked up the box and
+hurried toward the door.
+
+"From a devoted admirer?" inquired Blake, as she passed him.
+
+Don saw the color spring to Miss Winthrop's cheeks, but she hurried on
+without a word in reply. He understood now what it was she did not
+like about Blake. Don was not at all of an aggressive nature, but at
+that moment he could have struck the man with the greatest
+satisfaction. It seemed the only adequate way of expressing himself.
+Blake was still smiling.
+
+"Sort of caught her with the goods that time, eh?" observed Blake.
+
+"I don't get you," answered Don.
+
+"Candy by messenger? Well, I've been looking for it. And when those
+haughty ones do fall, believe me, they fall hard."
+
+"Maybe," answered Don. "But I'll bet you five dollars to a quarter
+you're wrong about her."
+
+Blake's eyes narrowed a trifle.
+
+"I'll take you," he answered. "What's your proof?"
+
+"I sent her that stuff myself."
+
+"You? Holy smoke, that's going some!"
+
+"I sent her that to pay for some typewriting she did for me and
+because I knew she wouldn't take any money."
+
+"I lose. Come out and have a drink?"
+
+"Thanks," answered Don. "I'm on my way uptown. Give that quarter to
+Eddie."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IT WILL NEVER DO
+
+
+If Miss Winthrop ever had more than a nodding acquaintance with Mr.
+Pendleton, she gave no indication of that fact when she came in the
+next morning. With a face as blank as a house closed for the season,
+she clicked away at her typewriter until noon, and then hurried out to
+lunch as if that were a purely business transaction also. Don followed
+a little sooner than usual. The little restaurant was not at all
+crowded to-day, but she was not there. He waited ten minutes, and as
+he waited the conviction grew that she did not intend to come.
+
+Don went out and began an investigation. He visited five similar
+places in the course of the next fifteen minutes, and in the last one
+he found her. She was seated in a far corner, and she was huddled up
+as if trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. As he
+strode to her side with uplifted hat, she shrank away like a hunted
+thing finding itself trapped.
+
+"What did you run away for?" he demanded.
+
+"What did you hunt me up for?" she replied.
+
+"Because I wanted to see you."
+
+"And I came here because I did _not_ want to see you."
+
+"Now, look here--" he began.
+
+"So I should think you'd go along and leave me alone," she interrupted.
+
+"If I did that, then I'd never know what the trouble is all about," he
+explained.
+
+"Well, what of it?"
+
+"May I sit down?"
+
+There was an empty chair next to her.
+
+"I can't prevent you, but I've told you I want to be alone."
+
+"When you look that way, you're just as much alone as if I weren't
+here," he returned, as he took the chair. "And every one knows it."
+
+She gave a swift glance about the room, as if expecting to find half
+the crowd looking at her.
+
+"Maybe they are too polite to let on," he continued; "but I know just
+what they are saying to themselves. They are saying, 'She certainly
+hasn't much use for him. You'd think he'd take the tip and get out.'"
+
+"You don't seem to care much, then, about what they say."
+
+"I don't care a hang," he admitted.
+
+She pushed her plate away as if ready to go.
+
+"Wait a minute," he pleaded. "It doesn't seem like you to go off and
+leave a man in the dark. How in thunder am I going to know any better
+next time if you don't tell me where I made the break?"
+
+"I don't believe you'd know if I did tell you," she answered more
+gently.
+
+"The least you can do is to try."
+
+She did not want to tell him. If he was sincere--and the longer she
+talked with him, the more convinced she was that this was the
+case--then she did not wish to disillusionize him.
+
+"The least you can do is to give me a chance," he persisted.
+
+"The mistake came in the beginning, Mr. Pendleton," she said, with an
+effort. "And it was all my fault. You--you seemed so different from a
+lot of men who come into the office that I--well, I wanted to see you
+get started straight. In the three years I've been there I've picked
+up a lot of facts that aren't much use to me because--because I'm just
+Miss Winthrop. So I thought I could pass them on."
+
+"That was mighty white of you," he nodded.
+
+The color flashed into her cheeks.
+
+"I thought I could do that much without interfering in any other way
+with either of our lives."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"There were two or three things I didn't reckon with," she answered.
+
+"What were they?" he demanded.
+
+"Blake is one of them."
+
+"Blake?" His face brightened with sudden understanding. "Then the
+trouble is all about that box of candy?"
+
+"You shouldn't have sent it. You should have known better than to send
+it. You--had no right."
+
+"But that was nothing. You were so darned good to me about the
+typewriting and it was all I could think of."
+
+"So, you see," she concluded, "it won't do. It won't do at all."
+
+"I don't see," he returned.
+
+"Then it's because you didn't see the way Blake looked at me," she
+said.
+
+"Yes, I saw," he answered. "I could have hit him for it. But I fixed
+that."
+
+"You--fixed that?" she gasped.
+
+"I certainly did. I told him I sent the box, and told him why."
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Then they'll all know, and--what am I going to
+do? Oh, what am I going to do?"
+
+It was a pitiful cry. He did not understand why it was so intense,
+because he did not see what she saw--the gossip increasing in
+maliciousness; the constant watching and nods and winks, until in the
+end it became intolerable either to her or to Farnsworth. Nor was that
+the possible end. To leave an office under these conditions was a
+serious matter--a matter so serious as to affect her whole future.
+
+"Now, see here," he pleaded. "Don't take it so hard. You're making too
+much of it. Blake isn't going to talk any more. If he does--"
+
+She raised her head.
+
+"If he does, there isn't anything you can do about it."
+
+"I'll bet there is."
+
+"No--no--_no_. There isn't. I know! But you mustn't come here any
+more. And you mustn't talk to me any more. Then perhaps they'll
+forget."
+
+He grew serious.
+
+"It seems too bad if it's got to be that way," he answered.
+
+"I ought to have known," she said.
+
+"And I ought to have known, too. I was a fool to send that box into
+the office, but I wanted you to get it before you went home."
+
+She raised her eyes to his a moment. Then a queer, tender expression
+softened her mouth.
+
+"This is the end of it," she answered. "And now I'm glad you did not
+know any better."
+
+She rose to go, and then she noticed that he had not lunched.
+
+"I'll wait here until you come back with your sandwich," she said.
+
+"I don't want a sandwich," he protested.
+
+"Please hurry."
+
+So she waited there until he came back with his lunch, and then she
+held out her hand to him.
+
+"To-morrow you go to the old place," she said, "and I'll come here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+DICTATION
+
+
+As far as Don was concerned, Miss Winthrop, instead of merely changing
+her lunch-place, might just as well have taken a steamer and sailed
+for Europe. He saw her at her desk every morning when he came in, and
+she always looked up and nodded--as she did, for that matter, to every
+one, including Blake. Then she turned to her work, and that was the
+end of her until the next morning. As far as he was able to judge,
+Miss Winthrop had completely and utterly forgotten the preceding weeks
+and even the incident that led to this disastrous climax.
+
+But the situation that left her so unaffected got on Don's nerves. He
+was by nature too much of a social being to endure being left to
+himself very long. This lunching alone day after day was a dreary
+affair. The egg sandwiches began to pall upon his taste, and he felt
+that he could not have eaten an �clair had he been starving.
+
+Sometimes he had only a cup of coffee, and then hurried out and
+wandered about the streets for the remainder of his hour. It was a
+long hour--a tedious hour. Most of the time he spent in the hope that,
+by some lucky chance, he might meet her. He did not hunt for her. He
+avoided her usual course. If he met her, it must be honestly by
+chance. But he never met her. He passed thousands of other young
+women, but he never met her. He used to return to the office sometimes
+doubting that she existed. But at one o'clock she was always there
+back of her machine.
+
+He spent a good deal of time that week with Powers; and seemed to make
+some progress. He had now a definite knowledge of bonds and notes, and
+had even mastered, in a general way, the important details of some of
+the issues the house was handling. Twice he had taken home his papers
+and actually spent several hours upon them. Some of them he knew
+almost by heart. It was encouraging, but it would have been much more
+encouraging if he had been able to tell Miss Winthrop about it.
+
+Somehow, he did not feel that he really knew those things until he
+had told her he knew them. This was a curious frame of mind to be in,
+but it was a fact.
+
+As far as he was concerned, he would have broken through this embargo
+long ago. But she had made him see, and see clearly, that he was _not_
+alone concerned. That was the whole trouble. If Blake talked only
+about him, and let it go at that, no harm would be done.
+
+One Friday morning, toward eleven o'clock, Blake was out of the
+office, and Don had just finished a long talk with Powers, when he
+noticed that Miss Winthrop was not for the moment busy.
+
+Don had an inspiration. He caught Powers just as he was about to
+leave.
+
+"Look here, old man," he said in an undertone. "Is there any objection
+to my dictating a letter to Miss Winthrop?"
+
+"Why, no," answered Powers. "She's there for the use of the staff."
+
+"Thought I'd like to have her take down some of the things we've been
+talking about," he explained.
+
+"Good idea," nodded Powers.
+
+A minute later Miss Winthrop caught her breath as Don calmly walked to
+her desk, seated himself in a chair near her, and, producing a
+circular from his pocket, followed Blake's formula in asking:--
+
+"Can you take a letter for me, Miss Winthrop?"
+
+Almost as automatically as she answered Blake, she replied:--
+
+"Certainly."
+
+She reached for her notebook and pencil.
+
+"_My dear Madame_," he began.
+
+"Any address, Mr. Pendleton?"
+
+"I don't know the exact address," he answered. "Just address it to the
+little restaurant in the alley."
+
+She looked up.
+
+"Mr. Pendleton!"
+
+"To the little restaurant in the alley," he continued calmly. "Do you
+use Madame or Mademoiselle to an unmarried lady?" he inquired.
+
+"I suppose this is a strictly business letter, or you would not be
+dictating it in office hours," she returned.
+
+"I'll make it partly business," he nodded. "Ready?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Pendleton; but I don't think--"
+
+"Who is introducing the personal element now?" he demanded.
+
+"Ready, Mr. Pendleton."
+
+  _My dear Madame_:--
+
+  In reply to your advice that I acquire certain information
+  relative to the securities which our firm is offering for sale, I
+  beg to report that, after several talks with our Mr. Powers, I am
+  prepared to give you any information you may desire.
+
+"Try me on one of them?" he suggested, interrupting himself.
+
+She raised her eyes and glanced anxiously around the office. Then she
+replied, as if reading from her notebook:--
+
+"You forget, Mr. Pendleton, that I am taking a letter from you."
+
+"Try me on one of the bonds," he insisted.
+
+"You mustn't act like this. Really, you mustn't."
+
+"Then I'll dictate some more. Ready?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Pendleton."
+
+Our Miss Winthrop has just informed me that you have lost your
+interest in the whole matter.
+
+"I didn't say that, Mr. Pendleton," she interrupted.
+
+"What did you say, then?"
+
+"I said that here in the office--"
+
+"Oh, I see. Then scratch that sentence out."
+
+She scratched it out.
+
+"Have it read this way":--
+
+Our Miss Winthrop informs me--
+
+"Why need you bring me in at all?" she asked.
+
+"Please don't interrupt."
+
+--informs me that, owing to the lack of privacy in the office, you
+cannot discuss these matters here with me. Therefore I suggest that,
+as long as the luncheon hour is no longer convenient (for the same
+reasons), an arrangement be made whereby I may have the pleasure of
+dining with you some evening.
+
+Miss Winthrop's brows came together.
+
+"That is absolutely impossible!" she exclaimed.
+
+If the idea does not appeal to you as a pleasure,--
+
+he went on in the most impersonal of tones,--
+
+perhaps you would be willing to consider it as a favor. Our Miss
+Winthrop informs me that the suggestion is impossible, but personally
+I don't see how anything could be more easily arranged. I would
+prefer Saturday evening, as on that date I am quite sure of being
+sufficiently well provided with ducats--
+
+"You'd better save them," she interrupted.
+
+--to insure a proper settlement with the waiter,--
+
+he concluded his sentence.
+
+Please let me know, then, where I may meet you on Saturday evening
+next.
+
+"I told you that was quite impossible, Mr. Pendleton," she reminded
+him.
+
+"You haven't told me why."
+
+"There are a hundred reasons, and they can't be discussed here."
+
+"That's it," he exclaimed triumphantly. "That's the whole trouble! We
+can't discuss things here; so let's have our little dinner, and then
+there'll be all the chance in the world for you to tell me why you
+shouldn't come."
+
+"You're absurd," she declared, with an involuntary smile.
+
+Hoping for the favor of an early reply,--
+
+he concluded,--
+
+I beg to remain, Madame, most sincerely yours.
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"You might add this postscript":--
+
+I shall be at the Harvard Club at seven to-night, and a 'phone message
+there might be the most convenient way of replying.
+
+"You don't really wish this typed, Mr. Pendleton?"
+
+"I think it best," he replied as he rose, "unless you're too tired?"
+
+"I'm never tired in business hours."
+
+He returned to his desk; in a few seconds he heard the click of her
+machine.
+
+Miss Winthrop did not stop at the delicatessen store that night, but
+went direct to her room. She removed her hat and coat, and then sat
+down, chin in hands, to think this problem out.
+
+She had missed Pendleton at the luncheon hour to a distinctly
+discomfiting degree. Naturally enough, she held him wholly responsible
+for that state of mind. Her life had been going along smoothly until
+he took it upon himself to come into the office. There had been no
+complications--no worries. She was earning enough to provide her with
+a safe retreat at night, and to clothe and feed her body; and this
+left her free, within certain accepted limits, to do as she pleased.
+This was her enviable condition when Mr. Pendleton came along--came
+from Heaven knew where, and took up his position near her desk. Then
+he had happened upon her at the little restaurant. And he was hungry
+and had only thirteen cents.
+
+Perhaps right there was where she had made her mistake. It appeared
+that a woman could not be impersonally decent to a man without being
+held personally responsible. If she did not telephone him to-night,
+Pendleton would be disappointed, and, being disappointed, Heaven only
+knew what he would do.
+
+Under the circumstances, perhaps the wisest thing she could do was to
+meet him this once and make him clearly understand that she was never
+to meet him again. Pendleton was young, and he had not been long
+enough in the office to learn the downtown conventions. It was her
+fault that she had interested herself in him in the first place. It
+was her fault that she had allowed him to lunch with her. It was her
+fault that she had not been strictly businesslike with him in the
+office. So she would have dinner with him, and that would end it.
+
+She had some tea and crackers, and at half-past six put on her things
+and took a short walk. At seven she went into a public pay station,
+rang up the Harvard Club, and called for Mr. Pendleton. When she heard
+his voice her cheeks turned scarlet.
+
+"If you insist I'll come to-morrow night," she informed him. "But--"
+
+"Say, that's fine!" he interrupted.
+
+"But I want you to understand that I don't approve of it."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," he assured her. "Where may I call for you?"
+
+"I--I don't know."
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+She gave her address.
+
+"Then I'll call there."
+
+"Very well," she answered.
+
+"Now, I call that mighty good of you," he ran on. "And--"
+
+"Good-night," she concluded sharply.
+
+She hung up the receiver and went back to her room in anything but a
+comfortable frame of mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+STEAK, WITH MUSHROOMS AND ADVICE
+
+
+All of Miss Winthrop that occupied a desk in the office of Carter,
+Rand & Seagraves on the next day was that for which Farnsworth was
+paying a weekly wage of twelve dollars. From the moment she entered
+that morning until she left that afternoon she made this perfectly
+clear to every one, including Don. But he also was busy. He had
+determined to make himself letter perfect on several bond issues. To
+this end he worked as hard as ever he had the day before a final
+examination. Besides this, Farnsworth found three or four errands for
+him to do, which he accomplished with dispatch. All that week
+Farnsworth had used him more and more--a distinctly encouraging sign.
+Don knew offhand now the location of some ten or fifteen offices, and
+was received in them as the recognized representative of Carter, Rand
+& Seagraves. In some places he was even known by name and addressed
+as Mr. Pendleton--which filled him with considerable pride.
+
+Don went direct to his house from the office, dressed, and went to the
+club.
+
+"If any one rings me up, get the name," he ordered the doorman.
+
+He avoided the crowd before the bar, and went upstairs to the library.
+He had brought his circulars with him, and now went over them once
+again in order to refresh his memory on some of the details. He was as
+anxious about getting this right as if Miss Winthrop were a
+prospective customer. Perhaps she might be. Women invested money, and
+if he was persuasive enough he might sell her a thousand-dollar bond.
+If he did not sell one to her, he might sell a few to Barton. Barton
+was always investing money--investing the Pendleton money, in fact. He
+might suggest Barton to Farnsworth, and drop around and see him
+to-morrow. Then Barton might suggest some one else. Before night he
+might in this way sell a couple of dozen of these bonds. He grew
+excited at the idea. He felt a new instinct stirring within him.
+
+Don had never sold anything in his life except a few old clothes to
+second-hand clothes men in Cambridge. Strictly speaking, that was more
+in the nature of a gift than a sale: for a hundred dollars' worth of
+clothes, he received perhaps ten dollars, which he felt obliged to
+spend on his friends at the first opportunity.
+
+Don had always been a buyer--a talent that required neither
+preparation nor development. Money had always passed from him to some
+one else. This was pleasant enough, but undramatic. There was no
+clash; it called for no effort on his part. To reverse all this and
+watch the money pass in the other direction--from some one else to
+him--impressed him as a pleasant variation.
+
+At seven o'clock Don replaced his circulars in his pocket and went
+downstairs. Wadsworth passed him, and for a moment Don was tempted to
+stop him and try out his knowledge of bonds on him. The club, however,
+was hardly the place for that. But if ever he met Wadsworth on the
+street he would see what he could do. Wadsworth had never been more
+than an acquaintance of his, but now he saw in him a prospective
+customer.
+
+Don stepped into a taxi at the door and gave the driver the address
+supplied by Miss Winthrop. The cab after a little came to a stop
+before one of several entrances in a long brick block. Before Don had
+time to reach the door Miss Winthrop stepped out. He had rather hoped
+for an opportunity to meet some of her family.
+
+"Am I late?" he inquired anxiously.
+
+He could not account in any other way for the fact that she had
+hurried out before he had a chance to send in his card.
+
+"No," she answered. "Did you come in that?"
+
+She was looking at the taxi.
+
+He nodded, and stood at the door, ready to assist her in.
+
+"Well, you may send it away now," she informed him.
+
+"But--"
+
+"I won't go in it," she insisted firmly.
+
+"Afraid it will break down?"
+
+"Are you going to send it away?"
+
+Without further argument he paid the driver and sent him off.
+
+"It isn't right to waste money like that," she told him.
+
+"Oh, that was the trouble? But it wouldn't have cost more than a
+couple of dollars to have gone back with him."
+
+"Two dollars! That's carfare for three weeks."
+
+"Of course, if you look at it that way. But here we are away uptown,
+and--hanged if I know how to get out."
+
+He looked around, as bewildered as a lost child. She could not help
+laughing.
+
+"If you're as helpless as that I don't see how you ever get home at
+night," she said.
+
+He looked in every direction, but he did not see a car line. He turned
+to her.
+
+"I won't help you," she said, shaking her head.
+
+"Then we'll have to walk until we come to the Elevated," he
+determined.
+
+"All right," she nodded. "Only, if you don't go in the right direction
+you will walk all night before you come to the Elevated."
+
+"I can ask some one, can't I?"
+
+"I certainly would before I walked very far."
+
+"Then I'm going to ask you."
+
+He raised his hat.
+
+"I beg pardon, madame, but would you be so good--"
+
+"Oh, turn to the right," she laughed. "And do put on your hat."
+
+It was a quiet little French restaurant of the better kind to which he
+took her--a place he had stumbled on one evening, and to which he
+occasionally went when the club menu did not appeal to him. Jacques
+had reserved a table in a corner, and had arranged there the violets
+that Monsieur Pendleton had sent for this purpose. On the whole, it
+was just as well Miss Winthrop did not know this, or of the tip that
+was to lead to a certain kind of salad and to an extravagant dish with
+mushrooms to come later. It is certain that Monsieur Pendleton knew
+how to arrange a dinner from every other but the economical end.
+
+Don was very much himself to-night, and in an exceedingly good humor.
+In no time he made her also feel very much herself and put her into
+an equally good humor. Her cares, her responsibilities, her fears,
+vanished as quickly as if the last three or four years had taught her
+nothing. She had started with set lips, and here she was with smiling
+ones. In the half-hour that she waited in her room for him, she had
+rehearsed a half-dozen set speeches; now she did not recall one of
+them.
+
+Don suggested wine, but she shook her head. She had no need of wine.
+It was wine enough just to be out of her room at night; wine enough
+just to get away from the routine of her own meals; wine enough just
+not to be alone; wine enough just to get away from her own sex for a
+little.
+
+Don chatted on aimlessly through the anchovies, the soup, and fish,
+and she enjoyed listening to him. He was the embodiment of youth, and
+he made even her feel like a care-free girl of sixteen again. This
+showed in her face, in the relaxed muscles about her mouth, and in her
+brightened eyes.
+
+Then, during the long wait for the steak and mushrooms, his face
+became serious, and he leaned across the table.
+
+"By the way," he began, "the house has received a new allotment of
+bonds; I want to tell you about them."
+
+He had his facts well in hand, and he spoke with conviction and an
+unconventionality of expression that made her listen. She knew a
+good salesman when she heard one, whether she was familiar with the
+particular subject-matter or not. The quality of salesmanship
+really had nothing to do with the subject-matter. A good salesman
+can sell anything. It has rather to do with that unknown gift which
+distinguishes an actor able to pack a house from an actor with every
+other quality able only to half fill a house. It has nothing to do
+with general intelligence; it has nothing to do with conscientious
+preparation; it has nothing to do with anything but itself. It
+corresponds to what in a woman is called charm, and which may go
+with a pug nose or freckles or a large mouth. But it cannot be
+cultivated. It either is or is not.
+
+It was the mushrooms and steak that interrupted him. Jacques was
+trying to draw his attention to the sizzling hot platter which he was
+holding for his inspection--a work of art in brown and green.
+Ordinarily Monsieur Pendleton took some time to appreciate his
+efforts. Now he merely nodded:--
+
+"Good."
+
+Jacques was somewhat disappointed.
+
+"Madame sees it?" he ventured.
+
+Madame, who was sitting with her chin in her hands, staring across the
+table at Monsieur, started.
+
+"Yes," she smiled. "It is beautiful."
+
+But, when Jacques turned away to carve, she continued to stare again
+at Mr. Pendleton.
+
+"It's in you," she exclaimed. "Oh, what a chance you have!"
+
+"You think I'll do?"
+
+"I think that in two years you'll be outselling any one in the
+office," she answered.
+
+His face flushed at the praise.
+
+"That's straight?"
+
+"That's straight," she nodded. "And within another year Farnsworth
+will pay you anything you demand."
+
+"Ten thousand?"
+
+"A gift like yours is worth that to the house--if you don't spoil
+it."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Oh, I mean you must keep it fresh and clean and free, and not mix it
+up with money," she ran on eagerly. "You must keep right on selling
+for the fun of the game and not for the gain. The gain will come fast
+enough. Don't worry about that. But if you make it the end, it may
+make an end of your gift. And you mustn't get foolish with success.
+And you mustn't--oh, there are a hundred ways of spoiling it all."
+
+It was her apparent sure knowledge of these things that constantly
+surprised him.
+
+"How do you know?" he demanded.
+
+"Because I've seen and heard. All I can do is to stop, look, and
+listen, isn't it?"
+
+"And warn the speeders?" he laughed.
+
+"If I could do that much it would be something," she answered
+wistfully.
+
+"Will you warn me?"
+
+"I'm warning you now."
+
+She met his eyes with a puzzled frown.
+
+"I've seen a lot of men start right, but they don't stay right. Why
+don't they?"
+
+"But a lot of them do," he answered.
+
+"And they are the kind that just stay. I hate that kind. I hate people
+who just stay. That's why I hate myself sometimes."
+
+He looked up at her quickly. It was the first indication he had that
+she was not continually in an unbroken state of calm content. He
+caught her brown eyes grown suddenly full, as if they themselves had
+been startled by the unexpected exclamation.
+
+"What's that you said?" he demanded.
+
+She tried to laugh, but she was still too disconcerted to make it a
+successful effort. She was not often goaded into as intimate a
+confession as this.
+
+"It isn't worth repeating," she answered uneasily.
+
+"You said you hated yourself sometimes."
+
+"The steak is very, very good," she answered, smiling.
+
+"Then you aren't hating yourself now?"
+
+"No, no," she replied quickly. "It's only when I get serious
+and--please don't let's be serious."
+
+The rest of the dinner was very satisfactory, for he left her nothing
+to do but sit back and enjoy herself. And he made her laugh, sharing
+with him his laughter. It was half-past ten when they arose and went
+out upon the street. There she kept right on forgetting. It was not
+until she stood in her room, half-undressed, that she remembered she
+had not told Pendleton that to-night was positively to bring to an end
+this impossible friendship.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A SOCIAL WIDOW
+
+
+With the approach of the holiday season, when pretty nearly every one
+comes back to town, Frances found her engagements multiplying so
+rapidly that it required a good deal of tact and not a little
+arithmetic to keep them from conflicting. In this emergency, when she
+really needed Don, not only was he of no practical help, but he
+further embarrassed her by announcing a blanket refusal of all
+afternoon engagements. This placed her in the embarrassing position of
+being obliged to go alone and then apologize for him.
+
+"Poor Don is in business now," was her stock explanation.
+
+She was irritated with Don for having placed her in this position. In
+return for having surrendered to him certain privileges, she had
+expected him to fulfill certain obligations. If she had promised to
+allow him to serve exclusively as her social partner, then he should
+have been at all times available. He had no right to leave her a
+social widow--even when he could not help it. As far as the afternoons
+were concerned, the poor boy could not help it--she knew that; but,
+even so, why should her winter be broken up by what some one else
+could not help?
+
+She had given her consent to Don, not to a business man. As Don he had
+been delightful. No girl could ask to have a more attentive and
+thoughtful fianc� than he had been. He allowed her to make all his
+engagements for him, and he never failed her. He was the only man she
+knew who could sit through a tea without appearing either silly or
+bored. And he was nice--but not too nice--to all her girl friends, so
+that most of them were jealous of her. Decidedly, she had had nothing
+to complain of.
+
+And she had not complained, even when he announced that he was
+penniless. This did not affect her feeling toward Don himself. It was
+something of a nuisance, but, after all, a matter of no great
+consequence. She had no doubt he could make all the money he wanted,
+just as her father had done.
+
+But of late it had been increasingly difficult to persuade him, on
+account of business, to fulfill even his evening engagements. He was
+constantly reminding her of bonds and things that he must study. Well,
+if it was necessary for him to study bonds and things, he should find
+some way of doing it that would not interfere with her plans.
+
+The climax came when he asked to be excused from the Moore cotillion
+because he had three other dances for that week.
+
+"You see," he explained, "Farnsworth is going to let me go out and
+sell as soon as I'm fit, and so I'm putting in a lot of extra time."
+
+"Who is Farnsworth?" she inquired.
+
+"Why, he's the general manager. I've told you about him."
+
+"I remember now. But, Don dear, you aren't going to _sell_ things?"
+
+"You bet I am," he answered enthusiastically. "All I'm waiting for is
+a chance."
+
+"But what do you sell?" she inquired.
+
+"Investment securities."
+
+He seemed rather pleased that she was showing so much interest.
+
+"You see, the house buys a batch of securities wholesale and then
+sells them at retail--just as a grocer does."
+
+"Don!"
+
+"It's the same thing," he nodded.
+
+"Then I should call it anything but an attractive occupation."
+
+"That's because you don't understand. You see, here's a man with some
+extra money to invest. Now, when you go to him, maybe he has something
+else in mind to do with that money. What you have to do--"
+
+"Please don't go into details, Don," she interrupted. "You know I
+wouldn't understand."
+
+"If you'd just let me explain once," he urged.
+
+"It would only irritate me," she warned. "I'm sure it would only
+furnish you with another reason why you shouldn't go about as much as
+you do."
+
+"It would," he agreed. "That's why I want to make it clear. Don't you
+see that if I keep at this for a few years--"
+
+"Years?" she gasped.
+
+"Well, until I get my ten thousand."
+
+"But I thought you were planning to have that by next fall at the
+latest."
+
+"I'm going to try," he answered. "I'm going to try hard. But, somehow,
+it doesn't look as easy as it did before I started. I didn't
+understand what a man has to know before he's worth all that money."
+
+"I'm sure I don't find ten thousand to be very much," she observed.
+
+"Perhaps it isn't much to spend," he admitted, "but it's a whole lot
+to earn. I know a bunch of men who don't earn it."
+
+"Then they must be very stupid."
+
+"No; but somehow dollars look bigger downtown than they do uptown.
+Why, I know a little restaurant down there where a dollar looks as big
+as ten."
+
+"Don, dear, you're living too much downtown," she exclaimed somewhat
+petulantly. "You don't realize it, but you are. It's making you
+different--and I don't want you different. I want you just as you used
+to be."
+
+She fell back upon a straight appeal--an appeal of eyes and arms and
+lips.
+
+"I miss you awfully in the afternoons," she went on, "but I'll admit
+that can't be helped. I'll give up that much of you. But after dinner
+I claim you. You're mine after dinner, Don."
+
+She was very tender and beautiful in this mood. When he saw her like
+this, nothing else seemed to matter. There was no downtown or uptown;
+there was only she. There was nothing to do but stoop and kiss her
+eager lips. Which is exactly what he did.
+
+For a moment she allowed it, and then with an excited laugh freed
+herself.
+
+"Please to give me one of your cards, Don," she said.
+
+He handed her a card, and she wrote upon it this:--
+
+"_December sixteenth, Moore cotillion_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+DEAR SIR--
+
+
+Don never had an opportunity to test his knowledge of the bonds
+about which he had laboriously acquired so much information,
+because within the next week all these offerings had been sold and
+their places taken by new securities. These contained an entirely
+different set of figures. It seemed to him that all his previous
+work was wasted. He must begin over again; and, as far as he could
+see, he must keep on beginning over again indefinitely. He felt
+that Farnsworth had deprived him of an opportunity, and this had the
+effect of considerably dampening his enthusiasm.
+
+Then, too, during December and most of January Frances kept him very
+busy. He had never seen her so gay or so beautiful. She was like a
+fairy sprite ever dancing to dizzy music. He followed her in a sort of
+daze from dinner to dance, until the strains of music whirled through
+his head all day long.
+
+The more he saw of her, the more he desired of her. In Christmas week,
+when every evening was filled and he was with her from eight in the
+evening until two and three and four the next morning, he would glance
+at his watch every ten minutes during the following day. The hours
+from nine to five were interminable. He wandered restlessly about the
+office, picking up paper and circular, only to drop them after an
+uneasy minute or two. The entire office staff faded into the
+background. Even Miss Winthrop receded until she became scarcely more
+than a figure behind a typewriter. When he was sent out by Farnsworth,
+he made as long an errand of it as he could. He was gone an hour, or
+an hour and a half, on commissions that should not have taken half the
+time.
+
+It was the week of the Moore cotillion that Miss Winthrop observed the
+change in him. She took it to be a natural enough reaction and had
+half-expected it. There were very few men, her observation had told
+her, who could sustain themselves at their best for any length of
+time. This was an irritating fact, but being a fact had to be
+accepted. As a man he was entitled to an off day or two--possibly to
+an off week.
+
+But when the second and third and fourth week passed without any
+notable improvement in him, Miss Winthrop became worried.
+
+"You ought to put him wise," she ventured to suggest to Powers.
+
+"I?" Powers had inquired.
+
+"Well, he seems like a pretty decent sort," she answered indifferently.
+
+"So he is," admitted Powers, with an indifference that was decidedly
+more genuine than her own. It was quite clear that Powers's interest
+went no further. He had a wife and two children and his own
+ambitions.
+
+For a long time she saw no more of him than she saw of Blake. He
+nodded a good-morning when he came in, and then seemed to lose himself
+until noon. Where he lunched she did not know. For a while she had
+rather looked for him, and then, to cure herself of that, had changed
+her own luncheon place. At night he generally hurried out early--a bad
+practice in itself: at least once, Farnsworth had wanted him for
+something after he was gone; he had made no comment, but it was the
+sort of thing Farnsworth remembered. When, on the very next day, Mr.
+Pendleton started home still earlier, it had required a good deal of
+self-control on her part not to stop him. But she did not stop him.
+For one thing, Blake was at his desk at the time.
+
+It was a week later that Miss Winthrop was called into the private
+office of Mr. Seagraves one afternoon. His own stenographer had been
+taken ill, and he wished her to finish the day. She took half a dozen
+letters, and then waited while Farnsworth came in for a confidential
+consultation upon some business matters. It was as the latter was
+leaving that Mr. Seagraves called him back.
+
+"How is Pendleton getting along?" he inquired.
+
+Miss Winthrop felt her heart stop for a beat or two. She bent over her
+notebook to conceal the color that was burning her cheeks. For an
+impersonal observer she realized they showed too much.
+
+"I think he has ability," Farnsworth answered slowly. "He began well,
+but he has let down a little lately."
+
+"That's too bad," answered Mr. Seagraves. "I thought he would make a
+good man for us."
+
+"I can tell better in another month," Mr. Farnsworth answered.
+
+"We need another selling man," declared Mr. Seagraves.
+
+"We do," nodded Farnsworth. "I have my eye on several we can get if
+Pendleton doesn't develop."
+
+"That's good. Ready, Miss Winthrop."
+
+The thing Miss Winthrop had to decide that night was whether she
+should allow Mr. Pendleton to stumble on to his doom or take it upon
+herself to warn him. She was forced to carry that problem home with
+her, and eat supper with it, and give up her evening to it. Whenever
+she thought of it from that point of view, she grew rebellious and
+lost her temper. There was not a single sound argument why her time
+and her thought should be thus monopolized by Mr. Pendleton.
+
+She had already done what she could for him, and it had not amounted
+to a row of pins. She had told him to go to bed at night, so that he
+could get up in the morning fresh, and he had not done it. She had
+advised him to hustle whenever he was on an errand for Farnsworth, and
+of late he had loafed. She had told him to keep up to the minute on
+the current investments the house was offering, and to-day he probably
+could not have told even the names of half of them. No one could argue
+that it was her duty to keep after him every minute--as if he belonged
+to her.
+
+And then, in spite of herself, her thoughts went back to the private
+office of Mr. Seagraves. She recalled the expression on the faces of
+the two men--an expression denoting only the most fleeting interest in
+the problem of Mr. Pendleton. If he braced up, well and good; if he
+did not, then it was only a question of selecting some one else. It
+was Pendleton's affair, not theirs.
+
+That was what every one thought except Pendleton himself--who did not
+think at all, because he did not know. And if no one told him, then he
+would never know. Some day Mr. Farnsworth would call him into the
+office and inform him his services were no longer needed. He would
+not tell him why, even if Don inquired. So, with everything almost
+within his grasp, Pendleton would go. Of course, he might land another
+place; but it was no easy thing to find the second opportunity, having
+failed in the first.
+
+Yet this was all so unnecessary. Mr. Pendleton had in him everything
+Farnsworth wanted. If the latter could have heard him talk as she had
+heard him talk, he would have known this. Farnsworth ought to send him
+out of the office--let him get among men where he could talk. And that
+would come only if Mr. Pendleton could hold on here long enough. Then
+he _must_ hold on. He must cut out his late hours and return to his
+old schedule. She must get hold of him and tell him. But how?
+
+The solution came the next morning. She decided that if she had any
+spare time during the day she would write him what she had to say.
+When she saw him drift in from lunch at twenty minutes past one, she
+took the time without further ado. She snatched a sheet of office
+paper, rolled it into the machine, snapped the carriage into position,
+and began.
+
+  MR. DONALD PENDLETON,
+      Care Carter, Rand & Seagraves,
+          New York, N.Y.
+
+  _Dear Sir_:--
+
+  Of course it is none of my business whether you get fired or not;
+  but, even if it isn't, I like to see a man have fair warning.
+  Farnsworth doesn't think that way. He gives a man all the rope he
+  wants and lets him hang himself. That is just what he's doing with
+  you. I had a tip straight from the inside the other day that if
+  you keep on as you have for the last six weeks you will last here
+  just about another month. That isn't a guess, either; it's right
+  from headquarters.
+
+  For all I know, this is what you want; but if it is, I'd rather
+  resign on my own account than be asked to resign. It looks better,
+  and helps you with the next job. Most men downtown have a
+  prejudice against a man who has been fired.
+
+  You needn't ask me where I got my information, because I won't
+  tell you. I've no business to tell you this much. What you want to
+  remember is that Farnsworth knows every time you get in from lunch
+  twenty minutes late, as you did to-day; and he knows when you get
+  in late in the morning, as you have eleven times now; and he knows
+  when you take an hour and a half for a half-hour errand, as you
+  have seven times; and he knows when you're in here half-dead, as
+  you've been all the time; and he knows what you don't know about
+  what you ought to know. And no one has to tell him, either. He
+  gets it by instinct.
+
+  So you needn't say no one warned you, and please don't expect me
+  to tell you anything more, because I don't know anything more. I
+  am,
+
+                                         Respectfully yours,
+                                                SARAH K. WINTHROP.
+
+She addressed this to the Harvard Club, and posted it that night on
+her way home. It freed her of a certain responsibility, and so helped
+her to enjoy a very good dinner.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+IN REPLY
+
+
+Don did not receive Miss Winthrop's letter until the following
+evening. He had dropped into the club to join Wadsworth in a
+bracer,--a habit he had drifted into this last month,--and opened the
+envelope with indifferent interest, expecting a tailor's announcement.
+He caught his breath at the first line, and then read the letter
+through some five times. Wadsworth, who was waiting politely, grew
+impatient.
+
+"If you're trying to learn that by heart--" he began.
+
+Don thrust the letter into his pocket.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "It--it was rather important."
+
+They sat down in the lounge.
+
+"What's yours?" inquired Wadsworth, as in response to a bell a page
+came up.
+
+"A little French vichy," answered Don.
+
+"Oh, have a real drink," Wadsworth urged.
+
+"I think I'd better not to-night," answered Don.
+
+Wadsworth ordered a cock-tail for himself.
+
+"How's the market to-day?" he inquired. He always inquired how the
+market was of his business friends--as one inquires as to the health
+of an elderly person.
+
+"I don't know," answered Don.
+
+"You don't mean to say you've cut out business?" exclaimed Wadsworth.
+
+"I guess I have," Don answered vaguely.
+
+"Think of retiring?"
+
+"To tell the truth, I hadn't thought of it until very lately; but
+now--"
+
+Don restrained a desire to read his letter through once more.
+
+"Take my advice and do it," nodded Wadsworth. "Nothing in it but a
+beastly grind. It's pulling on you."
+
+As a matter of fact, Don had lost some five pounds in the last month,
+and it showed in his face. But it was not business which had done
+that, and he knew it. Also Miss Winthrop knew it.
+
+It was certainly white of her to take the trouble to write to him like
+this. He wondered why she did. She had not been very much in his
+thoughts of late, and he took it for granted that to the same degree
+he had been absent from hers. And here she had been keeping count of
+every time he came in late. Curious that she should have done that!
+
+In the library, he took out the letter and read it through again.
+Heavens, he could not allow himself to be discharged like an
+unfaithful office-boy! His father would turn in his grave. It would be
+almost as bad as being discharged for dishonesty.
+
+Don's lips came together in thin lines. This would never do--never in
+the world. As Miss Winthrop suggested, he had much better resign.
+Perhaps he ought to resign, anyway. No matter what he might do in the
+future, he could not redeem the past; and if Farnsworth felt he had
+not been playing the game right, he ought to take the matter in his
+own hands and get off the team. But, in a way, that would be
+quitting--and the Pendletons had never been quitters. It would be
+quitting, both inside the office and out. He had to have that salary
+to live on. Without it, life would become a very serious matter. The
+more he thought of this, the more he realized that resigning was out
+of the question. He really had no alternative but to make good; so he
+_would_ make good.
+
+The resolution, in itself, was enough to brace him. The important
+thing now was, not to make Carter, Rand & Seagraves understand this,
+not to make Farnsworth understand this: it was to make Miss Winthrop
+understand it. He seized a pen and began to write.
+
+  MY DEAR SARAH K. WINTHROP [he began]:--
+
+  Farnsworth ought to be sitting at your desk plugging that machine,
+  and you ought to be holding down his chair before the roll-top
+  desk. You'd get more work out of every man in the office in a week
+  than he does in a month. Maybe he knows more about bonds than you
+  do, but he doesn't know as much about men. If he did he'd have
+  waded into me just the way you did.
+
+  I'm not saying Farnsworth hasn't good cause to fire me. He has,
+  and that's just what you've made clear. But, honest and hope to
+  die, I didn't realize it until I read your letter. I knew I'd been
+  getting in late and all that; but, as long as it didn't seem to
+  make any difference to any one, I couldn't see the harm in it. I'd
+  probably have kept on doing it if you hadn't warned me. And I'd
+  have been fired, and deserved it.
+
+  If that had happened I think my father would have risen from his
+  grave long enough to come back and disown me. He was the sort of
+  man I have a notion you'd have liked. He'd be down to the office
+  before the doors were open, and he'd stay until some one put him
+  out. I guess he was born that way. But I don't believe he ever
+  stayed up after ten o'clock at night in his life. Maybe there
+  wasn't as much doing in New York after ten in those days as there
+  is now.
+
+  I don't want to make any excuses, but, true as you're living, if I
+  turned in at ten I might just as well set up business in the Fiji
+  Islands. It's about that time the evening really begins. How do
+  you work it yourself? I wish you'd tell me how you get in on time,
+  looking fresh as a daisy. And what sort of an alarm-clock do you
+  use? I bought one the other day as big as a snare-drum, and the
+  thing never made a dent. Then I tried having Nora call me, but I
+  only woke up long enough to tell her to get out and went to sleep
+  again. If your system isn't patented I wish you'd tell me what it
+  is. In the mean while, I'm going to sit up all night if I can't
+  get up any other way.
+
+  Because I'm going to make the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves
+  on time, beginning to-morrow morning. You watch me. And I'll make
+  up for the time I've overdrawn on lunches by getting back in
+  twenty minutes after this. As for errands--you take the time when
+  Farnsworth sends me out again.
+
+  You're dead right in all you said, and if I can't make good in
+  the next few months I won't wait for Farnsworth to fire me--I'll
+  fire myself. But that isn't going to happen. The livest man in
+  that office is going to be
+
+                                          Yours truly,
+                                             DONALD PENDLETON, JR.
+
+Don addressed the letter to the office, mailed it, and went home to
+dress. But before going upstairs he called to Nora.
+
+"Nora," he said, "you know that I'm in business now?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And you wouldn't like to see me fired, would you?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, sir!" gasped Nora.
+
+"Then you get me up to-morrow morning at seven o'clock, because if I'm
+late again that is just what is going to happen. And you know what Dad
+would say to that."
+
+The next morning Don stepped briskly into the office five minutes
+ahead of Miss Winthrop.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+COST
+
+
+It was quite evident that Farnsworth had something in mind; for,
+beginning that week, he assigned Don to a variety of new tasks--to
+checking and figuring and copying, sometimes at the ticker, sometimes
+in the cashier's cage of the bond department, sometimes on the curb.
+For the most part, it was dull, uninspiring drudgery of a clerical
+nature, and it got on Don's nerves. Within a month he had reached the
+conclusion that this was nothing short of a conspiracy on Farnsworth's
+part to tempt him to resign. It had the effect of making him hold on
+all the more tenaciously. He did his work conscientiously, and--with
+his lips a little more tightly set than was his custom--kept his own
+counsel.
+
+He had no alternative. His new work gave him little opportunity to
+talk with Miss Winthrop, and she was the one person in the world in
+whom he felt he could confide safely and at length. She herself was
+very busy. Mr. Seagraves, having accidentally discovered her ability,
+was now employing her more and more in his private office.
+
+It was about this time that a lot of petty outside matters came up,
+further to vex him. Up to this point Don's wardrobe had held out
+fairly well; but it was a fact that he needed a new business suit, and
+a number of tailors were thoughtfully reminding him that, with March
+approaching, it was high time he began to consider seriously his
+spring and summer outfit. Until now such details had given him
+scarcely more concern than the question of food in his daily life.
+Some three or four times a year, at any convenient opportunity, he
+strolled into his tailor's and examined samples at his leisure. Always
+recognizing at sight just what he wanted, no great mental strain was
+involved. He had merely to wave his cigarette toward any pleasing
+cloth, mention the number of buttons desired on coat and waistcoat,
+and the matter was practically done.
+
+But when Graustein & Company announced to him their new spring
+importations, and he dropped in there one morning on his way
+downtown, he recognized the present necessity of considering the item
+of cost. It was distinctly a disturbing and embarrassing necessity,
+which Mr. Graustein did nothing to soften. He looked his surprise when
+Don, in as casual a fashion as possible, inquired:--
+
+"What will you charge for making up this?"
+
+"But you have long had an account with us!" he exclaimed. "Here is
+something here, Mr. Pendleton,--an exclusive weave."
+
+"No," answered Don firmly; "I don't want that. But this other--you
+said you'd make that for how much?"
+
+Graustein appeared injured. He waved his hand carelessly.
+
+"Eighty dollars," he replied. "You really need two more, and I'll make
+the three for two hundred."
+
+"Thanks. I will tell you when to go ahead."
+
+"We like to have plenty of time on your work, Mr. Pendleton," said
+Graustein.
+
+Two hundred dollars! Once upon the street again, Don caught his
+breath. His bill at Graustein's had often amounted to three times
+that, but it had not then come out of a salary of twenty-five dollars
+a week. Without extra expenses he seldom had more than a dollar left
+on Saturday. By the strictest economy, he figured, it might be
+possible to save five. To pay a bill of two hundred dollars would at
+that rate require forty working weeks. By then the clothes would be
+worn out.
+
+It was facts like these that brought home to Don how little he was
+earning, and that made that ten-thousand-dollar salary appear like an
+actual necessity. It was facts like these that helped him to hold on.
+
+But it was also facts like these that called his attention to this
+matter of cost in other directions. Within the next two months, one
+item after another of his daily life became reduced to figures, until
+he lived in a world fairly bristling with price-tags. Collars were so
+much apiece, cravats so much apiece, waistcoats and shoes and hats so
+much. As he passed store windows the price-tags were the first thing
+he saw. It seemed that everything was labeled, even such articles of
+common household use as bed-linen, chairs and tables, carpets and
+draperies. When they were not, he entered and asked the prices. It
+became a passion with him to learn the cost of things.
+
+It was toward the middle of May that Frances first mentioned a
+possible trip abroad that summer.
+
+"Dolly Seagraves is going, and wishes me to go with her," she
+announced.
+
+"It will take a lot of money," he said.
+
+"What do you mean, Don?"
+
+One idle evening he had figured the cost of the wedding trip they had
+proposed. He estimated it at three years' salary.
+
+"Well, the tickets and hotel bills--" he began.
+
+"But, Don, dear," she protested mildly, "I don't expect you to pay my
+expenses."
+
+"I wish to Heavens I could, and go with you!"
+
+"We had planned on June, hadn't we?" she smiled.
+
+"On June," he nodded.
+
+She patted his arm.
+
+"Dear old Don! Well, I think a fall wedding would be nicer, anyway.
+And Dolly has an English cousin or something who may have us
+introduced at court. What do you think of that?"
+
+"I'd rather have you right here. I thought after the season here I
+might be able to see more of you."
+
+"Nonsense! You don't think we'd stay in town all summer? Don, dear, I
+think you're getting a little selfish."
+
+"Well, you'd be in town part of the summer."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"We shall sail early, in order to have some gowns made. But if you
+could meet us there for a few weeks--you do have a vacation, don't
+you?"
+
+"Two weeks, I think."
+
+"Oh, dear, then you can't."
+
+"Holy smoke, do you know what a first-class passage costs?"
+
+"I don't want to know. Then you couldn't go, anyway, could you?"
+
+"Hardly."
+
+"Shall you miss me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That will be nice, and I shall send you a card every day."
+
+"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed. "If your father would only go broke
+before then. If only he would!"
+
+Stuyvesant did not go broke, and Frances sailed on the first of
+June. Don went to the boat to see her off, and the band on the deck
+played tunes that brought lumps to his throat. Then the hoarse whistle
+boomed huskily, and from the Hoboken sheds he watched her until she
+faded into nothing but a speck of waving white handkerchief. In
+twenty minutes he was back again in the office of Carter, Rand &
+Seagraves--back again to sheets of little figures with dollar signs
+before them. These he read off to Speyer, who in turn pressed the
+proper keys on the adding-machine--an endless, tedious, irritating
+task. The figures ran to hundreds, to thousands, to tens of
+thousands.
+
+Nothing could have been more uninteresting, nothing more meaningless.
+He could not even visualize the sums as money. It was like adding so
+many columns of the letter "s." And yet, it was the accident of an
+unfair distribution of these same dollar signs that accounted for the
+fact that Frances was now sailing out of New York harbor, while he
+remained here before this desk.
+
+They represented the week's purchase of bonds, and if the name
+"Pendleton, Jr.," had appeared at the head of any of the accounts he
+might have been by her side.
+
+Something seemed wrong about that. Had she been a steam yacht he could
+have understood it. Much as he might have desired a steam yacht, he
+would have accepted cheerfully the fact that he did not have the
+wherewithal to purchase it. He would have felt no sense of injustice.
+But it scarcely seemed decent to consider Frances from this point of
+view, though a certain parallel could be drawn: her clean-cut lines,
+her nicety of finish, a certain air of silver and mahogany about her,
+affording a basis of comparison; but this was from the purely artistic
+side. One couldn't very well go further and estimate the relative
+initial cost and amount for upkeep without doing the girl an
+injustice. After all, there was a distinction between a gasolene
+engine and a heart, no matter how close an analogy physicians might
+draw.
+
+And yet, the only reason he was not now with her was solely a detail
+of bookkeeping. It was a matter of such fundamental inconsequence as
+the amount of his salary. He was separated from her by a single
+cipher.
+
+But that cipher had nothing whatever to do with his regard for her. It
+had played no part in his first meeting with her, or in the subsequent
+meetings, when frank admiration had developed into an ardent
+attachment. It had nothing to do with the girl herself, as he had seen
+her for the moment he succeeded in isolating her in a corner of the
+upper deck before she sailed. It had nothing to do with certain
+moments at the piano when she sang for him. It had nothing to do with
+her eyes, as he had seen them that night she had consented to marry
+him. To be sure, these were only detached moments which were not
+granted him often; but he had a conviction that they stood for
+something deeper in her than the everyday moments.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+A MEMORANDUM
+
+
+During that next week Don found a great deal of time in which to
+think. He was surprised at how much time he had. It was as if the
+hours in the day were doubled. Where before he seldom had more than
+time to hurry home and dress for his evening engagements, he now found
+that, even when he walked home, he was left with four or five idle
+hours on his hands.
+
+If a man is awake and hasn't anything else to do, he must think. He
+began by thinking about Frances, and wondering what she was doing,
+until young Schuyler intruded himself,--Schuyler, as it happened, had
+taken the same boat, having been sent abroad to convalesce from
+typhoid,--and after that there was not much satisfaction in wondering
+what she was doing. He knew how sympathetic Frances was, and how good
+she would be to Schuyler under these circumstances. Not that he
+mistrusted her in the least--she was not the kind to lose her head
+and forget. But, at the same time, it did not make him feel any the
+less lonesome to picture them basking in the sun on the deck of a
+liner while he was adding innumerable little figures beneath an
+electric light in the rear of the cashier's cage in a downtown office.
+It did not do him any good whatever.
+
+However, the conclusion of such uneasy wondering was to force him back
+to a study of the investment securities of Carter, Rand & Seagraves.
+Right or wrong, the ten thousand was necessary, and he must get it. On
+the whole, this had a wholesome effect. For the next few weeks he
+doubled his energies in the office. That this counted was proved by a
+penciled note which he received at the club one evening:--
+
+  MR. DONALD PENDLETON.
+
+  DEAR SIR:--
+
+  You're making good, and Farnsworth knows it.
+
+                                    Sincerely yours,
+                                           SARAH KENDALL WINTHROP.
+
+To hear from her like this was like meeting an old friend upon the
+street. It seemed to say that in all these last three weeks, when he
+thought he was occupying the city of New York all by himself, she, as
+a matter of fact, had been sharing it with him. She too had been doing
+her daily work and going home at night, where presumably she ate her
+dinner and lived through the long evenings right here in the same
+city. He seldom caught a glimpse of her even in the office now, for
+Seagraves took all her time. Her desk had been moved into his office.
+Yet, she had been here all the while. It made him feel decidedly more
+comfortable.
+
+The next day at lunch-time Don waited outside the office for her, and,
+unseen by her, trailed her to her new egg sandwich place. He waited
+until she had had time to order, and then walked in as if quite by
+accident. She was seated, as usual, in the farthest corner.
+
+"Why, hello," he greeted her.
+
+She looked up in some confusion. For several days she had watched the
+entrance of every arrival, half-expecting to see him stride in. But
+she no longer did that, and had fallen back into the habit of eating
+her lunch quite oblivious of all the rest of the world. Now it seemed
+like picking up the thread of an old story, and she was not quite sure
+she desired this.
+
+"Hello," he repeated.
+
+"Hello," she answered.
+
+There was an empty seat next to hers.
+
+"Will you hold that for me?" he asked.
+
+"They don't let you reserve seats here," she told him.
+
+"Then I guess I'd better not take a chance," he said, as he sat down
+in it.
+
+He had not changed any in the last few months.
+
+"Do you expect me to go and get your lunch for you?" she inquired.
+
+"No," he assured her. "I don't expect to get any lunch."
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"I was mighty glad to get your note," he went on. "I was beginning to
+think I'd got lost in the shuffle."
+
+"You thought Mr. Farnsworth had forgotten you?"
+
+"I sure did. I hadn't laid eyes on him for a week."
+
+"Mr. Farnsworth never forgets," she answered.
+
+"How about the others?"
+
+"There isn't any one else worth speaking of in that office."
+
+"How about you?"
+
+"I'm one of those not worth speaking of," she replied.
+
+She met his eyes steadily.
+
+"Seagraves doesn't seem to feel that way. He keeps you in there all
+the time now."
+
+"The way he does his office desk," she nodded. "You'd better get your
+lunch."
+
+"I'll lose my chair."
+
+"Oh, get your sandwich; I'll hold the chair for you," she answered
+impatiently.
+
+He rose immediately, and soon came back with his plate and coffee-cup.
+
+"Do you know I haven't had one of these things or a chocolate �clair
+since the last time I was in one of these places with you?"
+
+"What _have_ you been eating?"
+
+"Doughnuts and coffee, mostly."
+
+"That isn't nearly so good for you," she declared.
+
+He adjusted himself comfortably.
+
+"This is like getting back home," he said.
+
+"Home?"
+
+She spoke the word with a frightened, cynical laugh.
+
+"Well, it's more like home than eating alone at the other places," he
+said.
+
+"They are all alike," she returned--"just places in which to eat."
+
+She said it with some point, but he did not see the point. He took a
+bite of his egg sandwich.
+
+"Honest, this tastes pretty good," he assured her.
+
+He was eating with a relish and satisfaction that he had not known for
+a long time. It was clear that the credit for this was due in some way
+to Sarah Kendall Winthrop, though that was an equally curious
+phenomenon. Except that he had, or assumed, the privilege of talking
+to her, she was scarcely as intimate a feature of his life as Nora.
+
+"How do you like your new work?" she inquired.
+
+"It's fierce," he answered. "It's mostly arithmetic."
+
+"It all helps," she said. "All you have to do now is just to keep at
+it. Keeping posted on the bonds?"
+
+"Yes. But as fast as I learn a new one, it's sold."
+
+"That's all right," she answered. "The more you learn, the better.
+Some day Mr. Farnsworth will call you in and turn you loose on your
+friends."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"I know it, if you keep going. But you can't let up--not for one
+day."
+
+"If I can only last through the summer," he reflected aloud. "Have you
+ever spent a summer in town?"
+
+"Where else would I spend a summer?" she inquired.
+
+"I like the mountains myself. Ever been to Fabyan House?"
+
+She looked to see if he was joking. He was not. He had spent the last
+three summers very pleasantly in the White Mountains.
+
+"No," she answered. "A ten-cent trolley trip is my limit."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Anywhere I can find trees or water. You can get quite a trip right in
+Central Park, and it's good fun to watch the kiddies getting an
+airing."
+
+There was a note in her voice that made him turn his head toward her.
+The color sprang to her cheeks.
+
+"It's time I was getting back," she announced as she rose. "This is
+Mr. Seagraves's busy day."
+
+"But look here; I haven't finished my �clair!"
+
+"Then you'd better devote the next five minutes to that," she
+advised.
+
+She disappeared through the door, and in another second was blended
+with a thousand others.
+
+Don drew out his memorandum book and made the following entry:--
+
+"Visit Central Park some day and watch the kiddies."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ON THE WAY HOME
+
+
+Frances wrote him enthusiastically from London. In her big, sprawling
+handwriting the letter covered eight pages. Toward the end she
+added:--
+
+I miss you quite a lot, Don, dear, especially on foggy days. Please
+don't work too hard, and remember that I am, as always,
+
+  Your     FRANCES.
+
+Well, that was something to know--that she was always his, even in
+London. London was a long way from New York, and of course he could
+not expect her to go abroad and then spend all her time writing to
+him. He went up to the club after reading this, and wrote her a letter
+twenty pages long. It was a very sentimental letter, but it did him
+good. The next day he returned to the office decidedly refreshed. In
+fact, he put in one of the best weeks there since he had taken his
+position. When Saturday came he was sorry that it was a half-holiday:
+he would have liked to work even through Sunday.
+
+He left the office that day at a little before twelve, and stood on
+the corner waiting for Miss Winthrop. They had lunched together every
+day during the week; but he had not mentioned meeting her to-day,
+because he had come to the conclusion that the only successful way to
+do that was to capture her. So she came out quite jauntily and
+confidently, and almost ran into him as he raised his hat.
+
+She glanced about uneasily.
+
+"Please--we mustn't stand here."
+
+"Then I'll walk a little way with you."
+
+So he accompanied her to the Elevated station, and then up the steps,
+and as near as she could judge purposed entering the train with her.
+He revealed no urgent business. He merely talked at random, as he had
+at lunch.
+
+She allowed two trains to pass, and then said:--
+
+"I must go home now."
+
+"It seems to me you are always on the point of going home," he
+complained. "What do you do after you get there?"
+
+"I have a great many things to do," she informed him.
+
+"You have dinner?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Sometimes I have dinner too," he nodded. "Then what do you do?"
+
+"I have a great many things to do," she repeated.
+
+"I don't have anything to do after dinner," he said. "I just wander
+around until it's time to go to bed."
+
+"That's a waste of time."
+
+"I know it. It's just killing time until the next day."
+
+She appeared interested.
+
+"You have many friends?"
+
+"They are all in London and Paris," he answered.
+
+"You have relatives."
+
+"No," he answered. "You see, I live all alone. Dad left me a house,
+but--well, he didn't leave any one in it except the servants."
+
+"You live in a house all by yourself?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+Mr. Pendleton lived in a house! That was a wonderful thing to her. She
+had almost forgotten that any one lived in whole houses any more. She
+was eager to hear more. So, when the next train came along she stepped
+into it, and he followed, although she had not intended to allow
+this.
+
+"I wish you would tell me about your house," she said wistfully.
+
+So, on the way uptown, he tried to describe it to her. He told her
+where it was, and that quite took away her breath; and how his father
+had bought it; and how many rooms there were; and how it was
+furnished; and, finally, how he came to be living in it himself on a
+salary of twenty-five dollars a week. As she listened her eyes grew
+round and full.
+
+"My, but you're lucky!" she exclaimed. "I should think you'd want to
+spend there every minute you could get."
+
+"Why?" he asked in surprise.
+
+"Just because it's your house," she answered. "Just because it's all
+your own."
+
+"I don't see it," he answered.
+
+"And what do _you_ want of ten thousand a year?" she demanded. "You
+can live like a king on what you're drawing now."
+
+"You don't mean that?" he asked.
+
+"I don't mean you ought to give up trying for the big jobs," she said
+quickly. "You ought to try all the harder for those, because that's
+all that's left for you to try for. With everything else provided, you
+ought to make a name for yourself. Why, you're free to work for
+nothing else."
+
+"On twenty-five dollars a week?"
+
+"And a house that's all your own. With a roof over your head no one
+can take away, and heat and light--why, it's a fortune and your
+twenty-five so much extra."
+
+"Well, I have to eat," he observed.
+
+"Yes, you have to eat."
+
+"And wear clothes."
+
+She was doing that and paying her rent out of fifteen.
+
+"I don't see what you do with all your money," she answered.
+
+At this point she stepped out of the train, and he followed her. She
+went down the stairs to the street, and he continued to follow. She
+was on her way to the delicatessen store to buy her provisions for the
+night and Sunday. Apparently it was his intention to go there with
+her. At the door of the little shop she stopped.
+
+"I'm going in here," she informed him, as if that concluded the
+interview.
+
+He merely nodded and opened the door for her. She was beginning to be
+worried. At this rate there was no knowing but what he might follow
+her right home.
+
+"I'm going to buy my provisions for to-morrow," she further informed
+him.
+
+"I suppose I must get something too," he answered. "Can't I buy it
+here?"
+
+"It's a public place," she admitted.
+
+"Then come on."
+
+So they entered together, and Hans greeted them both with a smile, as
+if this were the most natural thing in the world. But Miss Winthrop
+herself was decidedly embarrassed. This seemed a very intimate
+business to be sharing with a man. On the other hand, she did not
+propose to have her plans put out by a man. So she ordered half a
+pound of butter and a jar of milk and some cheese and some cold roast
+and potato salad for that night and a lamb chop for Sunday, and one or
+two other little things, the whole coming to eighty-five cents.
+
+"Now," he asked, when she had concluded, "what do you think _I'd_
+better order?"
+
+Her cheeks were flushed, and she knew it.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," she answered.
+
+He saw some eggs.
+
+"I might as well have a dozen eggs to start with," he began.
+
+"Is there only yourself?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes," he answered.
+
+"Then I should think a half-dozen would do."
+
+"A half-dozen," he corrected the order.
+
+Then he thought of chops.
+
+"A pound or two of chops," he ordered.
+
+"If you have eggs for breakfast, you will need chops only for dinner.
+Two chops will be enough."
+
+Before she was through she had done practically all his ordering for
+him,--because she could not bear to see waste,--and the total came to
+about one half what it usually cost him. He thought there must be some
+mistake, and insisted that Hans make a second reckoning. The total
+was the same.
+
+"I shall trade with you altogether after this," he informed the
+pleased proprietor.
+
+There were several packages, but Hans bound them together into two
+rather large-sized ones. With one of these in each hand, Don came out
+upon the street with Miss Winthrop.
+
+"I'm going home now," she announced.
+
+"There you are again!" he exclaimed.
+
+"But I must."
+
+"I suppose you think I ought to go home."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Look here--doesn't it seem sort of foolish to prepare two lunches in
+two different places. Doesn't it seem rather wasteful?"
+
+Offhand, it did. And yet there was something wrong with that argument
+somewhere.
+
+"It may be wasteful, but it's necessary," she replied.
+
+"Now, is it?" he asked. "Why can't we go downtown somewhere and lunch
+together?"
+
+"You must go home with your bundles," she said, grasping at the most
+obvious fact she could think of at the moment.
+
+"If that's the only difficulty, I can call a messenger," he replied
+instantly.
+
+"And lose all you've saved by coming 'way up here? I won't listen to
+it."
+
+"Then I'll go home with them and come back."
+
+"It will be too late for lunch then."
+
+"I can take a taxi and--"
+
+"No wonder your salary isn't enough if you do such things!" she
+interrupted. "If you had ten thousand a year, you would probably
+manage to spend it all."
+
+"I haven't a doubt of it," he answered cheerfully. "On the other hand,
+it would get me out of such predicaments as these."
+
+Apparently he was content to stand here in front of the little shop
+the rest of the afternoon, debating this and similar points. It was
+necessary for her to take matters into her own hands.
+
+"The sensible thing for you to do is to go home and have lunch," she
+decided.
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Oh, I can't plan your whole day for you. But you ought to get out in
+the sunshine."
+
+"Then I'll meet you in the park at three?"
+
+"I didn't say that."
+
+"Will you come?"
+
+She was upon the point of saying no, when she made the mistake of
+meeting his eyes. They were honest, direct, eager. It was so easy to
+promise whatever they asked and so hard to be always opposing them.
+She answered impulsively:--
+
+"Yes."
+
+But she paid for her impulse, as she generally did, by being sorry as
+soon as she was out of sight of him. The first thing she knew, she
+would be back where she was a month ago, and that would never
+do--never do at all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A DISCOURSE ON SALARIES
+
+
+Until Miss Winthrop allowed Pendleton to spend with her that afternoon
+in the park, the period between the close of business on Saturday and
+the opening on Monday had furnished her with a natural protective
+barrier. On one side of this stood the business world of Carter, Rand
+& Seagraves, to which Pendleton himself belonged; on the other side
+was her own private, personal world. Now that barrier was down.
+Without realizing at the time the significance of his request,--a
+request so honestly and smilingly made that it took her off her
+guard,--she had allowed him, for a period of a couple of hours, to
+enter that personal world. By her side he had explored with her the
+familiar paths in the park which until then had been all her own. He
+had made himself a part of them. Never again could she follow them
+without, in a sense, having him with her.
+
+She realized this because when, at five o'clock, she had told him to
+leave her at the foot of the Elevated, she had watched him out of
+sight, and then, instead of going home as she intended, she had turned
+and gone back to the park. She had a vague notion that she must put
+her life back upon its normal basis before returning to her room. If
+only for a few moments, she must go over the old paths alone.
+
+It was impossible. Everywhere she turned, it was to recall some
+careless phrase or gesture or expression of his--to react to them
+again exactly as when he had been with her. And this man had nothing
+whatever to do with the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves. She could
+not force him back there; he insisted upon remaining on the personal
+side of the barrier.
+
+It was curious how quickly she accepted the situation after her first
+startled surprise. After all, if she was going to retain her interest
+in him in any way, it was as necessary to help him outside the office
+as within. One opportunity had been offered her that very afternoon in
+making him understand that it was perfectly possible to enjoy a
+half-holiday without spending all the money in his pocket.
+
+His attitude toward money puzzled her. In one way he seemed to
+place too much value upon it, and in another way not enough. He
+overemphasized the importance of a ten-thousand-dollar salary,
+making that the one goal of his business efforts, and then calmly
+proposed squandering dollar bills on confectionery and what not as
+an incident to as simple an amusement as a walk in the park. He
+neither knew how little a dollar was worth, nor how much. She herself
+had learned out of hard experience, and if she could only make him
+understand--well, that at least furnished her with some sort of
+excuse for allowing this new relationship to continue.
+
+For all any one knows, there may be some divine reason that prompts
+women to find excuses in such matters--which, in a way, forces them
+willy-nilly to the making of such excuses.
+
+And yet, she had to admit that it was stretching the excuse pretty far
+when, a week later, she meekly allowed him to come with her on her
+usual Sunday outing into the country. By steady cross-examination he
+had made her divulge the fact that it was her interesting habit to
+prepare a luncheon of bread and butter and cake, and, taking a train,
+to spend the day by the side of a brook she had discovered.
+
+"Fine," he nodded. "Next Sunday I'll go with you."
+
+That afternoon he started making his preparations.
+
+Obviously, the first thing necessary was a luncheon basket, and on his
+way uptown he saw one of English wicker that took his fancy. It had
+compartments with bottles and a whole outfit of knives and forks and
+plates and little drinking-cups and what not. What it cost is nobody's
+business. Then he stopped at a very nice grocery store on Fifth Avenue
+and asked the advice of the clerk about the more substantial contents,
+and the clerk gave his advice very willingly. He bought some French
+sardines and English marmalade, and some fruit and confectionery and
+some strictly fresh eggs and dainty crackers and some jelly and olives
+and cheese and several other little things.
+
+"Now," suggested the clerk, "a small chicken roasted and served cold
+would be very nice."
+
+"Right," nodded Don.
+
+"I could order it for you from here."
+
+"Right again," agreed Don.
+
+It was to be sent to the house, so that Nora could have it roasted
+that afternoon.
+
+He accomplished these things on his way uptown, and felt quite
+satisfied with himself. This preparing of a picnic basket was, after
+all, a very simple matter.
+
+When Miss Winthrop came into the station for the nine-thirty, he was
+waiting for her with the big wicker basket in his hand.
+
+They rode to a little village hardly large enough to have a name, and
+getting out there took to the open road.
+
+Don enjoyed the tramp of three miles that followed, but, on the whole,
+he was glad when they reached the border of the brook. The walking and
+the flowers and the scenery occupied too much of the girl's attention.
+Not only that, but this English wicker basket became heavy in the
+course of time. At the end of a mile or so it seemed as if the clerk
+must have lined the bottom of his basket with stones. Don meant to
+investigate at the first opportunity.
+
+The stream that she had discovered only after several seasons of
+ardent exploration was not, geographically considered, of any especial
+importance to the world at large. But behind the clump of alders out
+of which it crept was a bit of pasture greensward about as big as a
+room. Here one might lunch in as complete seclusion as if in the
+Canadian woods or in the heart of Africa.
+
+She was as eager to have him pleased as if this were some house of her
+planning. "It's a better dining-place than any in town, isn't it?" she
+asked.
+
+"I should say so," he nodded.
+
+With her permission, he lighted a cigarette and, stretching himself
+out on the grass, enjoyed it as only a man can who has limited his
+smokes to so many a day. She sat near the brook, and she too was quite
+content and very comfortable.
+
+"I don't see why you didn't tell me about this place before," he
+observed.
+
+"I wasn't quite sure you'd like it here, for one thing," she
+answered.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It isn't a very gay place, is it?"
+
+"It's considerably gayer than my house on a Sunday," he answered.
+
+"It's your own fault you don't enjoy your house more," she declared.
+
+"How is it?"
+
+"Why, it's a wonderful thing to have a house all of your own. I used
+to pretend this was a house all of my own."
+
+"Don't you any longer?"
+
+She was wondering how it would be about that, now that she had allowed
+him to enter. Of course, she might treat him merely as a guest here;
+but that was difficult, because the only thing she based her sense of
+ownership on was the fact that no one else knew anything about the
+place. She shook her head.
+
+"It's hard to pretend anything except when you're alone," she
+answered.
+
+He sat up.
+
+"Then you oughtn't to have let me come here with you."
+
+She smiled.
+
+"How could I help it? You just came."
+
+"I know it," he admitted. "I'm always butting in, and you ought to
+tell me so every now and then."
+
+"Would that make any difference?"
+
+"I don't know as it would," he admitted. "But it might make me
+uncomfortable."
+
+"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I think you manage to make
+yourself uncomfortable enough, as it is. And that's absurd, because
+just being a man ought to keep you happy all the time."
+
+"I don't see how you figure that," he answered.
+
+"Being a man is being able to do about anything you wish."
+
+"Don't you believe it," he replied. "Having money is the only thing
+that makes you able to do what you wish."
+
+"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "Are you going back to that ten thousand a
+year?"
+
+"Pretty soon now it will be September," he reflected irrelevantly.
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I had rather hoped to get it by then."
+
+"Well, you won't, so you'd better forget it. I shouldn't wonder but
+what you received a raise to two thousand if Farnsworth gets you out
+selling, and that ought to satisfy you."
+
+Don looked up. Somehow, every time she put it that way it did sound
+enough. Beside the brook it sounded like plenty.
+
+"Look here," he exclaimed. "Would you marry a man who was only drawing
+a salary of two thousand?"
+
+For a moment the question confused her, but only for a moment.
+
+"If I was willing to take my chance with a man," she said, "his salary
+of two thousand would be the least of my troubles."
+
+"You mean you think two could live on that?"
+
+"Of course they could," she answered shortly.
+
+"And have enough to buy clothes and all those things?"
+
+"And put money in the bank if they weren't two fools," she replied.
+
+"But look here," he continued, clinging to the subject when it was
+quite evident she was willing to drop it. "I've heard that hats cost
+fifty dollars and more apiece, and gowns anywhere from two hundred to
+five."
+
+"Yes," she nodded; "I've heard that."
+
+"Well, don't they?" he persisted.
+
+"I don't remember ever getting any bill of that size," she answered
+with a smile.
+
+"What do your bills amount to?" he inquired.
+
+Miss Winthrop hesitated a moment.
+
+"If you want to know," she answered finally, "this hat cost me some
+three dollars with the trimmings. And if I ever paid more than
+twenty-five dollars for a suit, I'd want some one to appoint a
+guardian for me."
+
+There certainly was a wide margin of difference here in the estimates
+made by two women--a difference not accounted for, as far as Don could
+see, in the visible results. He would have liked to continue more into
+details, but Miss Winthrop rose as if to put an end to this subject.
+
+"I'm hungry," she announced.
+
+"Right," he nodded. "There's my basket over there, and I'll let you
+set the table."
+
+Her idea had been that he was to eat his luncheon and she hers.
+However, she had no objection to making things ready for him. So she
+brought the basket over in front of him and opened it. She gave one
+look into it.
+
+"Did you buy all this?" she demanded.
+
+"Why, yes," he answered.
+
+She removed the napkin and saw the cold chicken.
+
+"Didn't you know any better, or were you just trying to see how much
+money you could throw away?" she inquired.
+
+"Don't you like chicken?"
+
+"Yes, I like chicken," she answered.
+
+"There are other things underneath, and hot coffee in the bottles," he
+announced.
+
+Just to see how far he had gone, she took out the other things. She
+caught her breath.
+
+"Well, it's your own affair," she commented. "But, if you eat all
+this, I'm sorry for you."
+
+She spread a napkin before him and placed the chicken on it,
+surrounding it with the tin of sardines, the boxes of crackers, the
+jar of marmalade, the cheese, the confectionery, and other things.
+Then she unrolled her own package of sandwiches, and proceeded to
+munch one.
+
+"Look here!" he exclaimed. "You didn't think I bought this all for
+myself?"
+
+"I'd rather think that than to think you thought I was silly enough to
+want you to throw away your money."
+
+He was carving the chicken, and he handed her a portion upon one of
+the bright aluminum plates. But she shook her head in refusal.
+
+"You aren't going to have any of this?"
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+"I call that rather too bad, because if you don't it will be wasted."
+
+"It was wasted when you bought it."
+
+"But you didn't tell me what to get."
+
+"I told you we'd each bring our own luncheon," she reminded him.
+
+"And so we did; but I don't call it very friendly of you not to share
+with me."
+
+"I have quite enough of my own."
+
+She seemed determined about the matter, so he put all the things back
+again in the basket, closed and fastened the lid, and, placing it to
+one side, lighted a fresh cigarette. She watched him in amazement.
+
+"Aren't you going to eat your lunch?" she demanded.
+
+"I refuse to eat alone."
+
+"I'm the one who is eating alone," she said.
+
+"That seems to be what you want."
+
+"You've no right to do things and then blame me for them," she
+protested.
+
+"You're doing all the blaming yourself," he returned.
+
+For a moment she continued to eat her sandwich in silence and to watch
+his set face. She was quite sure he would remain stubborn in the stand
+he had taken.
+
+"It was silly enough to buy all those expensive things, but it would
+be even sillier to throw them away," she asserted.
+
+"It would at least be too bad," he confessed. "But I can't help it,
+can I? I can't _make_ you eat, you know."
+
+There he went again, placing the whole blame on her.
+
+"Hand me that basket," she ordered.
+
+He handed her the basket, and she brought out the delicacies.
+
+"Next time I shall prepare both lunches," she declared.
+
+"That will be very nice," he nodded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A LETTER
+
+
+Letter from Miss Frances Stuyvesant to Donald Pendleton, Esq.:--
+
+  PARIS, FRANCE, June 20.
+
+  DEAR OLD DON:--
+
+I'm having a very good time, Don, dear, and I know you'll be glad to
+hear that. Dolly has a great many friends in Paris, and so has Dad,
+and so has Chic. Between them all we are very gay. But it is raining
+to-day, and somehow I've been worrying about your being in town with
+nothing to do but work. I do hope you are taking care of yourself and
+running to the shore or the mountains for the week-ends.
+
+Now I must hurry up and dress; but please remember that I am still, as
+always,
+
+  Your     FRANCES.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+STARS
+
+
+At lunch one warm Wednesday, Don suggested to Miss Winthrop that after
+the close of business they take a car for the beach instead of going
+to their respective homes.
+
+"We can go down there, have our supper, and then get out of the crowd
+and smell the ocean awhile," he said.
+
+He had a knack for putting in a most reasonable light anything he
+wished to do. It was a feature of his selling gift, and she recognized
+it as such.
+
+"What do you say?" he pressed her.
+
+She blushed at her own hesitancy.
+
+"Oh, I'll go," she answered.
+
+The incident remained uppermost in her thoughts all the rest of the
+afternoon. If she had known about this excursion the day before, she
+would have put on a different shirt-waist. She had a new silk waist
+which was very pretty and which she had meant to wear next Sunday.
+
+He met her at the Elevated station, but it was she who had to direct
+him to the proper trolley for Coney, or they might have landed
+anywhere along the Sound.
+
+Stopping only long enough to buy an ice for supper and a bag of
+peanuts, they sought the beach. He threw himself down full length on
+the sand, and she sat with her hands clasped over her knees. The salt
+air swept her cheeks and cooled them, and the waves before her ran up
+the beach in play and song. This was certainly a decided improvement
+over such a night in her room.
+
+"See those stars!" he exclaimed, as if this were the first time he had
+ever seen them.
+
+She lifted her eyes and looked at them.
+
+"I often look at them," she said.
+
+Then she laughed gently to herself.
+
+"Do you know what I do when I'm silly enough to want jewels?" she
+asked.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I take a look at those stars, and then I don't want jewels any
+more."
+
+"A man could give away diamonds by the handful if women would take
+that kind," he exclaimed. "See that big fellow up there?" He pointed
+it out, and she nodded.
+
+"I'll give you that one," he offered.
+
+She laughed lightly--confidently.
+
+"But I don't have to come to you or to any one," she reminded him. "I
+can just give it to myself."
+
+"That isn't quite the same thing, is it?"
+
+No, it was not quite the same thing. She knew it. But she was not
+telling all she knew.
+
+"It's a wonder to me you've never married," he said.
+
+She caught her breath. She had come to look for unexpected remarks
+from him, but this was a trifle more unexpected than usual. She tried
+to laugh as she usually did, but she could not laugh.
+
+"I suppose you've figured out that, with all your free diamonds,
+you're better off as you are," he suggested.
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"Is that the way of it?" he persisted.
+
+She tried to make her voice natural, but there was a tightening in her
+throat.
+
+"I haven't done much figuring of any kind along that line," she said.
+
+He was looking out to sea.
+
+"I don't know but what both men and women are better off unmarried,"
+he said.
+
+"They aren't," she answered.
+
+It was some one within her rather than she herself who spoke. He
+turned to look at her, but her eyes were out at sea.
+
+"You mean that?" he said.
+
+"I mean it," she answered.
+
+"Even if a man hasn't much money?"
+
+She turned her eyes again to the sky.
+
+"What has money to do with the stars?" she asked.
+
+"Do you think a man in my position has any right to ask a woman to
+marry him?"
+
+"What has your position to do with it?" she asked.
+
+"It has a lot if the woman wants five times what I'm earning," he
+answered.
+
+She gave a little startled cry. The stars swam before her.
+
+"Oh!" she gasped. "You mean--you mean you're thinking of some one
+like--like that?"
+
+"Yes," he answered.
+
+He had a vague notion this was not the sort of thing one ordinarily
+discussed with another woman. But Miss Winthrop was different from
+other women: she had both experience and common sense.
+
+"I asked her to marry me a year ago," he said.
+
+The stars were still swimming before her.
+
+"And--and she said--?"
+
+"She said she thought I ought to wait until I was earning ten
+thousand."
+
+"And that's the reason you--you wanted the ten thousand?"
+
+"Yes. You didn't think I wanted it for myself, did you?"
+
+"I didn't know," she answered.
+
+It was like a load removed from his shoulders. He breathed freer.
+
+"You're the most sensible woman I ever met, and I thought you could
+help me."
+
+She hated that word sensible now, though when Mr. Seagraves had used
+it to her it had seemed like a compliment.
+
+"You see, I had plenty of money when we were first engaged, and so it
+didn't make any difference, even if she had plenty too. Then, when Dad
+tied up my share, why, it made things different. We talked it over and
+decided that ten thousand was about right; but--well, I didn't think
+it would take so long to get it."
+
+"Where is--where is she now?" Miss Winthrop demanded.
+
+"She went abroad in June to stay until September."
+
+"And left you here?"
+
+"Of course. I couldn't go."
+
+"And left you here?" she repeated.
+
+"That's what you get for being in business," he explained. "We had
+planned to go together--on our honeymoon."
+
+The air was getting chill. She shivered.
+
+"Aren't you warm enough?" he asked.
+
+He started to remove his jacket to throw over her shoulders, but she
+objected.
+
+"I'm all right."
+
+"Better put it on."
+
+"No; I don't want it."
+
+They were silent a moment, and then she said, almost complainingly:--
+
+"As long as you couldn't go, why didn't she stay here with you?"
+
+The question startled him.
+
+"In town?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why didn't she stay here and look after you?"
+
+"Why, she couldn't do that when she was going abroad."
+
+"Then she had no business to go abroad," she answered fiercely.
+
+"Now, look here," he put in. "We aren't married, you know. We're only
+engaged."
+
+"But _why_ aren't you married?"
+
+"We couldn't afford it."
+
+"That isn't true. You could afford it on half what you're earning."
+
+He shook his head. "You don't know."
+
+"She should have married you, and if she wanted more she should have
+stayed and helped you get more."
+
+"And helped?" he exclaimed.
+
+She was looking up at the stars again. They were getting steadier.
+
+"It's the only way a woman can show--she cares."
+
+Then she rose. She was shivering again.
+
+"I think we'd better go now."
+
+"But we haven't been here a half-hour," he protested.
+
+"We've been here quite a long while," she answered. "Please, I want to
+go home now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+IN THE DARK
+
+
+An hour or so later Miss Winthrop lay in her bed, where, with the door
+tight locked and the gas out, she could feel just the way she felt
+like feeling and it was nobody's business. She cried because she
+wished to cry. She cried because it was the easiest and most
+satisfactory way she knew of relieving the tenseness in her throat.
+She burrowed her face in the pillow and cried hard, and then turned
+over on her pig-tails and sobbed awhile. It did not make any
+difference, here in the dark, whether the tears made lines down her
+face or not--whether or not they made her eyes red, and, worst of all,
+her nose red.
+
+From sobbing, Miss Winthrop dwindled to sniveling, and there she
+stopped. She was not the kind to snivel very long--even by herself.
+She did not like the sound of it. So she took her wadded handkerchief
+and jammed it once into each eye and jabbed once at each cheek, and
+then, holding it tight in her clenched fist, made up her mind to stop.
+For a minute or two an occasional sob broke through spasmodically; but
+finally even that ceased, and she was able to stare at the ceiling
+quite steadily. By that time she was able to call herself a little
+fool, which was a very good beginning for rational thinking.
+
+There was considerable material upon which to base a pretty fair
+argument along this line. Admitting that Don Pendleton was what she
+had been crying about,--a purely hypothetical assumption for the sake
+of a beginning,--she was able to start with the premise that a woman
+was a fool for crying about any man. Coming down to concrete facts,
+she found herself supplied with even less comforting excuses. If she
+had been living of late in a little fool's paradise, why, she had made
+it for herself. She could not accuse him of having any other part in
+it than that of merely being there. If she went back a month, or three
+months, or almost a year, she saw herself either taking the initiative
+or, what was just as bad, passively submitting. Of course, her motive
+had been merely to help him in an impersonal sort of way. She had
+seen that he needed help, but she had not dreamed the reason for it.
+She had no warning that he had been deserted by her who should have
+helped him. She had no way of knowing about this other. Surely that
+ignorance was not her fault.
+
+Here is where she jabbed her handkerchief again into each eye and lay
+back on her pig-tails long enough to get a fresh grip upon herself.
+Her skin grew hot, then cold, then hot again. It really had all been
+more the fault of this other than Mr. Pendleton's. She had no business
+to go away and leave him for some one else to care for. She had no
+business to leave him, anyway. She ought to have married him away back
+when he first went to work to make a fortune for her. Why didn't she
+take the money it cost to go to Europe and spend it on him? She had
+let a whole year go wasted, when she had such an opportunity as this!
+Here was a house waiting for her; here was Don waiting for her; and
+she had gone to Europe!
+
+To put one's self in another's place--in a place of so delicate a
+nature as this--is a dangerous business, but Miss Winthrop did not do
+it deliberately. Lying there in the dark, her imagination swept her
+on. The thought that remained uppermost in her mind was the chance
+this other girl had missed. She would never have it again. In the fall
+Don would receive his raise and be sent out to sell, and after that
+his career was assured. It remained only for him to hold steady--an
+easy matter after the first year--and his income was bound to increase
+by thousand-dollar jumps until he won his ten thousand and more. And
+with that there was not very much left, as far as she could see, for a
+woman to do. The big fight would be all over. A woman could no longer
+claim a partnership; she would simply be bought.
+
+If last fall she had had the chance of that other, she would have had
+him out selling a month ago. Give her a year or two, and she would
+have him in that firm or some other. She could do it. She felt the
+power that minute.
+
+This raised a new question. What was she to do from now on? Until now
+she had had the excuse of ignorance; but there was still another month
+before Don's fianc�e would be back. And this month would count a
+whole lot to him. It was the deciding month. Farnsworth had been
+watching him closely, and had about made up his mind; but he was still
+on the alert for any break. He had seen men go so far and then break.
+So had she. It was common enough. She herself had every confidence in
+Don, but she was doubtful about how long it was wise to leave even him
+alone. Men could not stand being alone as well as women. They had not
+the same experience. It took a special kind of nerve to be alone and
+remain straight.
+
+Well, supposing he did break, what was that to her, now that she knew
+about this other? Here was a perfectly fair and just question. The man
+had made his selection and given over his future into the care of the
+woman of his choice, and she alone was responsible. There could be no
+dispute about this. It was a fair question; and yet, as soon as she
+framed it, she recognized it as unworthy of her. Furthermore, it led
+to an extremely dangerous deduction--namely, that her interest, after
+all, was not entirely impersonal; for if it were what difference did
+one woman or twenty other women make in her relations with him? To
+put the matter bluntly, she was acting exactly as if she were in love
+with him herself!
+
+When Miss Winthrop faced that astounding fact she felt exactly as if
+her heart stopped beating for a full minute. Then it started again as
+if trying to make up for the lapse in a couple of breaths. She gasped
+for breath and, throwing off the bedclothes, jumped up and lighted the
+gas. Here was something to be met in the light. But, as soon as she
+caught sight of her flushed cheeks and her staring eyes, she hurriedly
+turned out the gas again and climbed back into bed. Here she lay like
+some trapped thing, panting and helpless. Over and over again she
+whispered, "I'm not! I'm not!" as if some one were bending over her
+and taunting her with the statement. Then she whispered, "It isn't
+true! Oh, it isn't true!" She denied it fiercely--vehemently. She
+threw an arm over her eyes even there in the dark.
+
+It was such an absurd accusation! If she had been one of those silly,
+helpless creatures with nothing else to do in life but fall in love,
+it might have had some point; but here she was, a self-respecting,
+self-supporting girl who had seen enough of men to know distinctly
+better than to do anything so foolish. It had been the confidence born
+of this knowledge that had allowed her from the start to take an
+impersonal interest in the man. And the proof of this was that she had
+so conducted herself that he had not fallen in love with her.
+
+Then what in the world was she crying about and making such a fuss
+about? She asked herself that, and, with her lips firm together,
+determined that the best answer was to do no more crying and make no
+more fuss. So she settled back again upon her pig-tails, and stared at
+the ceiling and stared at the ceiling and stared at the ceiling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE SENSIBLE THING
+
+
+When Miss Winthrop rose the next morning, she scarcely recognized the
+woman she saw in the glass as the woman she had glimpsed for a second
+last night when she had risen and lighted the gas. Her cheeks were
+somewhat paler than usual, and her eyes were dull and tired. She
+turned from the glass as soon as possible, and donned a freshly
+laundered shirt-waist. Then she swallowed a cup of coffee, and walked
+part way to the office, in the hope that the fresh air might do
+something toward restoring her color. In this she was successful, but
+toward noon the color began to fade again.
+
+The problem that disturbed her the entire morning long had to do with
+luncheon. She recognized that here she must strike the keynote to all
+her future relations with Mr. Pendleton. If she was to eliminate him
+entirely and go back to the time when he was non-existent, then she
+must begin to-day. It was so she preferred to handle disagreeable
+tasks. She detested compromises. When she had anything to do, she
+liked to do it at once and thoroughly. If she had consulted her own
+wishes and her own interests alone, she would never have seen him
+again outside the office. But if she did this, what would become of
+him during this next month?
+
+The trouble was that Don would get lonesome--not necessarily for her,
+but for that other. He was the sort of man who needed some one around
+all the time to take an interest in him. This deduction was based, not
+upon guesswork, but upon experience. For almost a year now she had
+seen him every day, and had watched him react to just such interest on
+her part. She was only stating a fact when she said to herself that,
+had it not been for her, he would have lost his position months
+before. She was only stating another fact when she said to herself
+that even now he might get side-tracked into some clerical job. Give
+him a month to himself now, and he might undo all the effort of the
+last six months. Worse than that, he might fall into the clutches of
+Blake and go to pieces in another way.
+
+There was not the slightest use in the world in retorting that this,
+after all, was the affair of Don and his fianc�e rather than hers. She
+had brought him through so far, and she did not propose to see her
+work wasted. No one would gain anything by such a course.
+
+The alternative, then, was to continue to meet him and to allow
+matters to go on as before. It was toward the latter part of the
+forenoon that she reached this conclusion. All this while she had been
+taking letters from Mr. Seagraves and transcribing them upon her
+typewriter without an error. She had done no conscious thinking and
+had reached no conscious conclusion. All she knew was that in the
+early forenoon she had been very restless, and that suddenly the
+restlessness vanished and that she was going on with her typewriting
+in a sort of grim content. Half-past eleven came, and then twelve. She
+finished the letter, and went for her hat as usual, putting it on
+without looking in the glass.
+
+Don met her a little way from the office, and she fell into step at
+his side.
+
+"I was sort of worried about you last night," he said. "You looked
+tired."
+
+"I guess I was," she answered.
+
+"Don't you get a vacation before long?"
+
+She could have had her vacation a month ago, but there seemed to be no
+reason for taking it. She had not been able to think of any place to
+which she wished to go. Then she had forgotten about it.
+
+"I've decided to take it next month," she answered.
+
+She decided that much on the spot.
+
+"I suppose there's one due me, too," he said. "Blake said something
+about it a while ago. But I don't know what I'd do with a vacation if
+I took one."
+
+"I should think you had something very important to do with it," she
+answered quickly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Take it for your wedding trip."
+
+The suggestion made him catch his breath. "Look here," he exclaimed.
+"That means getting married!"
+
+"Surely it does," she nodded.
+
+They had reached the little restaurant, and she hurried in. Without
+waiting for his assistance, she secured a cup of coffee and a sandwich
+for herself. Then she found a chair and sat down. She did not know how
+she was ever going to swallow anything, but she had to have something
+to do to occupy her hands.
+
+"You put that up to a man as if it were the easiest thing in the
+world," he observed, sitting in the next chair.
+
+"Well, it is, isn't it--once you've made up your mind?"
+
+"Looks to me as if it was one thing to make up your mind to get
+married some day, and another really to get married."
+
+"It's better to do it than to waste your time thinking about it," she
+declared. "When Farnsworth hands you that raise, believe me, he'll
+want you to have both feet on the ground."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"He won't want you to be drifting in with only three hours' sleep, the
+way you did most of last winter. He has a lot more confidence in
+married men, anyhow."
+
+Don laughed.
+
+"That phrase makes a man feel ten years married."
+
+She had been trying hard to eat her lunch, but without much success.
+He noticed this.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" he inquired.
+
+"I don't happen to be hungry, that's all," she answered.
+
+"You didn't catch cold last night?"
+
+"No."
+
+"But look here--"
+
+"Oh, I'm all right," she answered.
+
+He went to the counter and returned with some doughnuts for himself
+and a piece of cake for her.
+
+"This looked so good I thought you might like it," he said, as he
+placed it on the arm of her chair. "It's so much easier to talk when
+eating. I want to hear more about this scheme of yours for marrying me
+off."
+
+"It isn't exactly my suggestion."
+
+"You proposed it a minute ago."
+
+"All I said was that if you mean to get married, you'd better do it
+right away and be done with it."
+
+"During my vacation?"
+
+She brought her lips together.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know, that rather appeals to me," he answered thoughtfully.
+
+She turned aside her head.
+
+"It's the only sensible thing," she assured him.
+
+"It would give a man a chance to settle down and attend to business."
+
+"And give his wife a chance to help him."
+
+"By Jove, I'm going to propose that to Frances the day she lands!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+He was finishing his last doughnut. Miss Winthrop rose. Once outside,
+she could breathe freely. She said:--
+
+"Her--her name is Frances?"
+
+"Frances Stuyvesant," he nodded.
+
+"When do you expect her home?"
+
+"The first of September."
+
+"Then you'd better put in a bid to have your vacation the first two
+weeks in September," she advised. "Business will begin to pick up
+right after that, and Farnsworth will need you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+LOOKING AHEAD
+
+
+It was now the first week in August. If she could sustain his interest
+in the project for three weeks and get him married in the fourth, then
+she could settle back into the routine of her life. It was the only
+possible way of straightening out the tangle. Once he was safely
+married, that was the end. Their relations would cease automatically.
+The conventions would attend to that. As a married man he, of course,
+could not lunch with her or spend Saturday afternoons in the park with
+her, or Sunday in the country with her, or mid-week evenings anywhere
+with her. He would be exiled from her life as effectively as if he
+himself should go to Europe. In fact, the separation would be even
+more effective, because there would not be any possible hope of his
+coming back. For her it would be almost as if he died.
+
+Back in her room that night, Miss Winthrop saw all these things quite
+clearly. And she saw that this was the only way. In no other way
+could she remain in the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves. If he did
+not marry in September,--she had applied that afternoon for her own
+vacation to parallel his,--then she must resign. Unmarried, he would
+be as irresponsible this coming winter as he was last, and if she
+remained would be thrown back upon her. She could not allow that--she
+could not endure it.
+
+She had lost so many things all at once. She did not realize until now
+how much dreaming she had done in these last few months. Dreams of
+which at the time she had scarcely been conscious returned to-night to
+mock her with startling vividness. It was not so much that she wished
+to be loved as that she wished to love. That was where she had
+deceived herself. Had Don made love to her, she would have recognized
+the situation and guarded herself. But this matter of loving him was
+an attack from a quarter she had not anticipated.
+
+In the next three weeks she left him little chance to think of
+anything but of his work and of Frances. She talked of nothing else at
+lunch; she talked of nothing else on Saturday afternoons and on
+Sundays and whenever they met on other days. This had its effect. It
+accustomed him to associate together the two chief objectives in his
+life until in his thoughts they became synonymous. For the first time
+since their engagement, he began to think of Frances as an essential
+feature of his everyday affairs.
+
+He began to think about what changes in the house would be necessary
+before she came. He talked this over with Miss Winthrop.
+
+"I wish you could come up and look the place over before Frances gets
+here," he said to her one day.
+
+If the color left her face for a second, it came back the next with
+plenty to spare. The idea was preposterous, and yet it appealed to her
+strangely.
+
+"I wish I could," she answered sincerely.
+
+"Well, why can't you?" he asked.
+
+"It's impossible--of course," she said.
+
+"I could arrange a little dinner and ask some one to chaperon," he
+suggested.
+
+"It's out of the question," she answered firmly. "You can tell me all
+about it."
+
+"But telling you about it isn't like letting you see it," he said.
+
+"It is almost as good, and--almost as good is something, isn't it?"
+
+There was a suppressed note in her voice that made him look up. He had
+caught many such notes of late. Sometimes, as now, he half expected to
+find her eyes moist when he looked up. He never did; he always found
+her smiling.
+
+"I'd have Nora give everything a thorough cleaning before September,"
+she advised.
+
+"I'll do that," he nodded.
+
+He wrote it down in his notebook, and that night spoke to Nora about
+it. She appeared decidedly interested.
+
+"It's possible that in the fall you may have some one else besides me
+to look after," he confided to her in explanation.
+
+"It's to be soon, sir?" she asked eagerly.
+
+"In September, perhaps," he admitted.
+
+"It would please your father, sir," she answered excitedly. "It's
+lonesome it's been for you, sir."
+
+He did not answer, but he thought about that a little. No, it had not
+been exactly lonesome for him--not lately. That was because he was
+looking ahead. That was it.
+
+"It hasn't seemed quite natural for you to be living on here alone,
+sir," she ventured.
+
+"Dad lived here alone," he reminded her.
+
+"Not at your age, sir," answered Nora.
+
+From that moment there was much ado in the house. Don came home at
+night to find certain rooms draped in dusting clothes, later to appear
+as fresh and immaculate as if newly furnished. This gave him a great
+sense of responsibility. He felt married already. He came downtown in
+the morning a little more serious, and took hold of his work with
+greater vigor.
+
+The next few weeks passed rapidly. Frances had finished her trip to
+Scotland and was on her way back to London. She was to sail in a few
+days now. He cabled her to let him know when she started, and three
+days later she answered. He showed her reply to Miss Winthrop.
+
+Sail Monday on the Mauretania, but Dolly wants me to spend next two
+weeks after arrival in the Adirondacks with her.
+
+Miss Winthrop returned the cable with a none too steady hand.
+
+"She mustn't do that," she said firmly.
+
+"Of course she mustn't," he agreed. "You see, she doesn't know she is
+to be married right away. Do you think I ought to cable her that?"
+
+"I don't think I would," Miss Winthrop replied. "But I would let her
+know I didn't approve of her arrangement."
+
+"Supposing I just say, 'Have other plans for you'?"
+
+"That would do," she nodded.
+
+So he sent her this message, and that evening at dinner Miss Winthrop
+spoke to him of another matter.
+
+"I don't think you have shown much attention to her parents this
+summer. Oughtn't you to see them and let them know what you intend?"
+
+"Tell Stuyvesant?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why should he object?" she asked.
+
+"I don't know as he will. Then again he might. You see, I've never
+told him just how Dad tied things up."
+
+"What difference does that make?" she demanded. "With the house and
+what you're earning, you have enough."
+
+"It isn't as much as he expects a man to give his daughter,
+though,--not by a long shot."
+
+"It's enough," she insisted. "Why, even without the house it would be
+enough."
+
+"Yes," he answered, with a smile. "When you say it--it's enough. I
+wish Stuyvesant knew you."
+
+The blood came into her cheeks. She wished he wouldn't say things like
+that.
+
+"It seems to me you ought to see him and tell him," she said
+thoughtfully.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"What's the use of seeing him until I've seen Frances?"
+
+"It's all settled about her."
+
+"That she'll marry me in September?"
+
+"Of course," she answered excitedly. "Why, she's been waiting a whole
+year. Do you think she'll want to wait any longer? As soon as she
+knows how well you've done, why--why, that's the end of it. Of course
+that's the end of it."
+
+"I wish I were as confident as you!"
+
+"You must be," she answered firmly. "You mustn't feel any other way.
+The house is all ready, and you are all ready, and--that's all there
+is to it."
+
+"And Frances is all ready?"
+
+"When she promised to marry you she was ready," she declared. "You
+don't understand. I guess women are different from men. They--they
+don't make promises like that until they are quite sure, and when they
+are quite sure they are quite ready. This last year should have been
+hers. You made a mistake, but there's no sense in keeping on with the
+mistake. Oh, I'm quite sure of that."
+
+She was wearing a light scarf,--this was at Jacques',--and she drew it
+over her shoulders. Somehow, the unconscious act reminded him of a
+similar act on the beach at Coney....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+VACATIONS
+
+
+During this next week--the week Frances was on the ocean and sailing
+toward him--he gained in confidence day by day. Miss Winthrop was so
+absolutely sure of her point of view that it was difficult in her
+presence to have any doubts.
+
+Frances was due to arrive on Monday, and for Sunday he had arranged at
+Jacques' a very special little dinner for Miss Winthrop. Miss Winthrop
+herself did not know how special it was, because all dinners there
+with him were special. There were roses upon the table. Their odor
+would have turned her head had it not been for the realization that
+her trunk was all packed and that to-morrow morning she would be upon
+the train. She had written to an aunt in Maine that she was coming--to
+this particular aunt because, of the three or four she knew at all,
+this aunt was the farthest from New York.
+
+As for him, he had forgotten entirely that Monday marked the beginning
+of her vacation. That was partly her fault, because for the last week
+she had neglected to speak of it.
+
+Ordinarily she did not permit him to come all the way back to the
+house with her; but this night he had so much to talk about that she
+did not protest. Yes, and she was too weak to protest, anyway. All the
+things he talked about--his fears, his hopes, speculations, and
+doubts--she had heard over and over again. But it was the sound of his
+voice to which she clung. To-morrow and after to-morrow everything
+would be changed, and she would never hear him talk like this again.
+He was excited to-night, and buoyant and quick with life. He laughed a
+great deal, and several times he spoke very tenderly to her.
+
+They had reached her door, and something in her eyes--for the life of
+him he could not tell what--caused him to look up at the stars. They
+were all there in their places.
+
+"Look at 'em," he said. "They seem nearer to-night than I've ever seen
+them."
+
+[Illustration: "I GUESS WOMEN ARE DIFFERENT FROM MEN"]
+
+She was a bit jealous of those stars. It had been when with her that
+he had first seen them.
+
+"You aren't looking," he complained.
+
+She turned her eyes to the sky. To her they seemed farther away than
+ever.
+
+"Maybe Frances is looking at those same stars," he said.
+
+She resented the suggestion. She turned her eyes back to the street.
+
+"Where's the star I gave you?" he asked.
+
+"It's gone," she answered.
+
+"Have you lost it?"
+
+"I can't see it."
+
+"Now, look here," he chided her lightly. "I don't call that very nice.
+You don't have a star given you every night."
+
+"I told you I didn't need to have them given to me, because I could
+take all I wanted myself. You don't own the stars too."
+
+"I feel to-night as if I did," he laughed. "I'll have to pick out
+another for you." He searched the heavens for one that suited him. He
+found one just beyond the Big Dipper, that shone steadily and quietly,
+like her eyes. He pointed it out to her.
+
+"I'll give you that one, and please don't lose it."
+
+She was not looking.
+
+"Do you see it?" he insisted.
+
+She was forced to look. After all, he could afford to give her one out
+of so many, and it would be something to remember him by.
+
+"Yes," she answered, with a break in her voice.
+
+"That one is yours," he assured her.
+
+It was as if he added, "All the rest belong to Frances."
+
+She held out her hand to him.
+
+"Thank you for your star," she said. "And--and I wish you the best of
+luck."
+
+He took her hand, but he was confused by the note of finality in her
+voice.
+
+"I don't see any need of being so solemn about saying good-night," he
+returned.
+
+He continued to hold her hand firmly.
+
+"But it's good-bye and--God-speed, too," she reminded him.
+
+"How do you make that out?"
+
+"You're going on a long journey, and I--I'm going on a little
+journey."
+
+"You? Where are you going?"
+
+He didn't want her to go anywhere. He wanted her to stay right where
+she was. Come to think of it, he always wanted her to stay right where
+she was. He always thought of her as within reach.
+
+"My vacation begins to-morrow," she answered.
+
+"And you're going away--out of town?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"You can't do that," he protested. "Why, I was depending upon you
+these next few days."
+
+It was difficult for her to tell at the moment whether the strain in
+her throat was joy or pain. That he needed her--that was joy; that he
+needed her only for the next few days--that was not joy.
+
+"You mustn't depend upon any one these next few days but yourself,"
+she answered earnestly. "And after that--just yourself and her."
+
+"That's well enough if everything comes out all right."
+
+"Make it come out right. That's your privilege as a man. Oh, that's
+why it's so good to be a man!"
+
+"You ought to have been a man yourself," he told her.
+
+She caught her breath at that, and insisted upon withdrawing her
+hand.
+
+"I used to think I'd like to be," she answered.
+
+"And now?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+He had swung the talk back to her again, when the talk should have
+been all of him and Frances.
+
+"It's in you to get everything in the world you want," she said. "I'm
+sure of that. All you have to do is to want it hard enough. And now
+there are so many things right within your grasp. You won't let go of
+them?"
+
+"No," he answered.
+
+"Your home, your wife, and your work--it's wonderful to make good in
+so many things all at once! So--good-bye."
+
+"You talk as if you were not coming back again!"
+
+"I'm coming back to Carter, Rand & Seagraves--if that's what you
+mean."
+
+"And you're coming back here--to your home?"
+
+"Yes; I'm coming back here."
+
+"Then we'll just say s'long."
+
+"No. We must say good-bye."
+
+She had not wished to say this in so many words. She had hoped he
+would take the new situation for granted.
+
+"When I come back you must look on me as--as Mr. Farnsworth does."
+
+"That's nonsense."
+
+"No; it's very, very good sense. It's the only thing possible. Can't
+you see?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then Frances will help you see."
+
+"She won't want to make a cad of me; I know that."
+
+"I'm going in now."
+
+She opened the door behind her.
+
+"Wait a moment," he pleaded.
+
+"No, I can't wait any longer. Good-bye."
+
+She was in the dark hall now.
+
+"Good-bye," she repeated.
+
+"S'long," he answered.
+
+Softly, gently, she closed the door upon him. Then she stumbled up the
+stairs to her room, and in the dark threw herself face down on her
+bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+IN THE PARK
+
+
+Either Frances had grown more beautiful in the last three months, or
+Don had forgotten how really beautiful she was when she left; for,
+when she stepped down the gangplank toward him, he was quite sure that
+never in his life had he seen any one so beautiful as she was then.
+Her cheeks were tanned, and there was a foreign touch in her costume
+that made her look more like a lady of Seville than of New York. As
+she bent toward him for a modest kiss, he felt for a second as if he
+were in the center of some wild plot of fiction. This was not she to
+whom he was engaged,--she whom he purposed to marry within the
+week,--but rather some fanciful figure of romance.
+
+He stepped into her car,--he did not know even if he was asked,--and
+for a half-hour listened to her spirited narration of incidents of the
+voyage. It was mostly of people, of this man and that, this woman and
+that, with the details of the weather and deck sports. Under ordinary
+circumstances he might have enjoyed the talk; but, with all he had to
+tell her, it sounded trivial.
+
+They reached the house. Even then, there was much talk of trunks and
+other things of no importance to him whatever. Stuyvesant hung around
+in frank and open admiration of his daughter; and Mrs. Stuyvesant
+beamed and listened and stayed. Don had a feeling that, in spite of
+his position in the family, they looked upon him at this moment as an
+intruder.
+
+It was another half-hour before he found himself alone with her. She
+came to his side at once--almost as if she too had been awaiting this
+opportunity.
+
+"Dear old Don," she said. "It's good to see you again. But you look
+tired."
+
+"And you look beautiful!" he exclaimed.
+
+Now that he was alone with her, he felt again as he had at the
+steamer--that this woman was not she to whom he was engaged, but
+some wonderful creature of his imagination. The plans he had made for
+her became commonplace. One could not talk over with her the
+matter-of-fact details of marrying and of housekeeping and of
+salaries. And those things that yesterday had filled him with
+inspiration, that had appeared to him the most wonderful things in
+life, that had been associated with the stars, seemed tawdry. She had
+been to London to see the Queen, and the flavor of that adventure
+was still about her.
+
+"Don, dear, what's the matter?"
+
+He was so long silent that she was worried. He passed his hand over
+his forehead.
+
+"I don't know," he answered honestly. "There were a lot of things I
+wanted to say to you, and now I can't think of them."
+
+"Nice things?"
+
+"Perhaps it's the house," he replied vaguely. "I wish we could get out
+of here for a little while. After lunch I want you to come to walk
+with me. Will you?"
+
+"Where, Don?"
+
+He smiled.
+
+"In the park."
+
+"What an odd fancy!" she answered.
+
+"Here I get you all mixed up with your father and mother and the
+Queen," he ran on. "I want to talk to you alone."
+
+He sounded more natural to her when he talked like that.
+
+"All right, Don, though there are a hundred things I ought to do this
+afternoon. And I must decide about going to the mountains with Dolly.
+What _were_ those other plans you cabled me about?"
+
+"Those are what I want to talk over with you," he answered.
+
+"What are they? I'm dying to know."
+
+"I'll tell you in the park. Now I'll go, so that you'll have time to
+do some of the hundred things you want to do."
+
+He turned.
+
+"Don't you want to--to--"
+
+She held out her arms to him. He kissed her lips. Then she seemed to
+come back to him as she had been before she sailed. He could have said
+all he wished to say then. But her mother was calling her.
+
+"I'll be here at two. And, this once--you must cancel every other
+engagement."
+
+"Yes, Don."
+
+She came to the door with him, and stood there until he turned the
+corner. He did not know where to go, but unconsciously his steps took
+him downtown. He stopped at a florist's and ordered a dozen roses to
+be sent back to the house. He stopped to order a box of her favorite
+bonbons. Then he kept on downtown toward the office of Carter, Rand &
+Seagraves. But this was the first day of his vacation, and so he had
+no object in going there. He must find a place to lunch. He came to a
+dairy lunch, and then he knew exactly what it was he needed. He needed
+Sally Winthrop to talk over his complication with him.
+
+As he made his way to the counter for his sandwich and coffee, he
+frowned. He had told her that he would surely need her. Now she was
+gone. He suddenly recalled that she had not even left her address.
+
+Only two days before he had been discussing with her the final details
+of the house awaiting Frances, and she had made him feel that
+everything was perfect.
+
+"She will love it," she had assured him.
+
+It was as if he heard her voice again repeating that sentence. Once
+again he reacted to her enthusiasm and saw through her eyes. She had
+made him feel that money--the kind of money Stuyvesant stood for--was
+nonsense. A salary of twelve hundred a year was enough for the
+necessities, and yet small enough to give his wife an opportunity to
+help.
+
+"When the big success comes," she had said to him, "then Frances can
+feel that it is partly her success too. A woman doesn't become a wife
+by just marrying a man, does she? It's only when she has a chance to
+help that she can feel herself really a wife."
+
+As she said it he felt that to be true, although to him it was a
+brand-new point of view.
+
+And Sally Winthrop had given him, in her own life, a new point of
+view on woman. He understood that she had never married because she
+had never happened to fall in love. She had always been too busy.
+But if ever she did fall in love, what a partner she would make!
+Partner--that was the word.
+
+"It's in you to get everything in the world you want," she had said
+last night, when she was leaving him.
+
+So it was. He gulped down the rest of his coffee and glanced at his
+watch. It was shortly after one. He must stay down here another
+half-hour--stay around these streets where he had walked with her and
+where she had made him see straight--until he had just time to meet
+Frances.
+
+He went out and walked past the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves,
+and then walked to the Elevated station where she took the train at
+night for home. The sight of the steps up which they had climbed
+together made him almost homesick. He wished to Heaven that she had
+postponed her vacation another day. If only he could see her a few
+minutes right now, he would be absolutely sure of himself.
+
+It was after two when he reached the house, but Frances was not ready.
+She was never quite ready.
+
+"I'll wait outside," he told the maid.
+
+The maid raised her brows a trifle, but answered civilly:--
+
+"Very well, sir."
+
+As he walked back and forth the Stuyvesant machine also drew up before
+the door and waited. He viewed it with suspicion. He could not say
+what he had to say in that. She must be afoot, as Sally Winthrop
+always was.
+
+He was making his turn at the end of the street when she came down the
+steps and before he could reach her stepped into the machine.
+
+"I have several little things to do after we've had our walk," she
+explained to Don, as he came up.
+
+She made room for him by her side. Because he did not wish to argue
+before the chauffeur, he took his allotted place; but he himself gave
+the order to the driver:--
+
+"Central Park."
+
+Then he turned to her.
+
+"When we get there we must get out and walk."
+
+"Very well, Don," she submitted; "but I think we'd be much more
+comfortable right here."
+
+She regarded him anxiously.
+
+"Is anything worrying you, Don?"
+
+"Only you," he answered.
+
+"I?" she exclaimed. "If it's because of Jimmy Schuyler, you needn't
+worry any more. He was very nice at first, but later--well, he was
+too nice. You see, he forgot I was engaged."
+
+"The little cad!" exclaimed Don.
+
+"You mustn't blame him too much. He just forgot. And now he is very
+attentive to Dolly."
+
+"She allows it?"
+
+"I think she rather likes him. She has invited him up to camp. And,
+Don, dear, she wants you to come too. It would be very nice if we
+could all go. Can't you manage it?"
+
+"It doesn't appeal to me just now," he answered.
+
+The machine had swung into the park. He ordered the chauffeur to
+stop.
+
+"Come," he said to Frances.
+
+He found the path from the drive where the children played, and he
+found the bench where he had sat with Sally Winthrop. Then all she had
+told him came back to him, as it had in the dairy lunch.
+
+"It's about the other plans I want to tell you out here," he began
+eagerly.
+
+"Yes, Don."
+
+"I've done a lot of work while you were away," he said proudly.
+
+"It seems a pity it was necessary," she answered.
+
+"It's been the best thing that ever happened to me," he corrected her.
+"It has made me see straight about a lot of things. And it's helped me
+to make good in the office."
+
+She looked puzzled.
+
+"You mean you've been made a partner or something?"
+
+"Hardly that--yet," he smiled. "But it's pretty sure I'll be put to
+selling when I come back."
+
+"You're going away?"
+
+"I'm on my vacation," he explained. "This is the first day of my
+vacation."
+
+"Oh, then you _can_ come with us?"
+
+"I'd rather you came with me."
+
+"With you, Don? But where?"
+
+"Anywhere you wish, as long as we go together and alone. Only we must
+get back in two weeks."
+
+"Don, dear!"
+
+"I mean it," he went on earnestly. "I want to marry you to-morrow or
+next day. Your trunks are all packed, and you needn't unpack them.
+We'll spend all the time we can spare in the mountains, and then come
+back--to the house. It's all ready for you, Frances. It's waiting for
+you."
+
+She stared about in fear lest some one might be overhearing his
+rambling talk.
+
+"Don," she gasped.
+
+"Nora has cleaned every room," he ran on, "and I've saved a hundred
+dollars for the trip. And Farnsworth is going to give me a raise
+before December. He hasn't promised it, but I know he'll do it,
+because I'm going to make good. You and I together will make good."
+
+She did not answer. She could not. She was left quite paralyzed. He
+was leaning forward expectantly.
+
+"You'll come with me?"
+
+It was a full minute before she could answer. Then she said:--
+
+"It's so impossible, Don."
+
+"Impossible?"
+
+"One doesn't--doesn't get married that way!"
+
+"What does it matter how one gets married?" he answered.
+
+"What would people say?"
+
+"I don't care what they'd say."
+
+"You mustn't get like that, Don, dear," she chided him. "Why, that's
+being an anarchist or something, isn't it?"
+
+"It's just being yourself, little girl," he explained more gently.
+"The trouble with us is, we've thought too much about other people
+and--other things. It's certain that after we're married people aren't
+going to worry much about us, so why should we let them worry us
+before that? No, it's all our own affair. As for the salary part of
+it, we've been wrong about that, too. We don't need so much as we
+thought we did. Why, do you know you can get a good lunch downtown for
+fifteen cents? It's a fact. You can get an egg sandwich, a chocolate
+�clair, and a cup of coffee for that. I know the place. And I've
+figured that, with the house all furnished us, we can live easy on
+twenty-five a week until I get more. You don't need your ten thousand
+a year. It's a fact, Frances."
+
+She did not answer, because she did not quite know what he was talking
+about. Yet, her blood was running faster. There was a new light in
+his eyes--a new quality in his voice that thrilled her. She had never
+heard a man talk like this before.
+
+"You'll have to trust me to prove all those things," he was running
+on. "You'll have to trust me, because I've learned a lot this summer.
+I've learned a lot about you that you don't know yourself yet. So what
+I want you to do is just to take my hand and follow. Can you do
+that?"
+
+At that moment it seemed that she could. On the voyage home she had
+sat much on the deck alone and looked at the stars, and there had been
+many moments when she felt exactly as she felt now. Thinking of him
+and looking at the stars, nothing else had seemed to matter but just
+the two of them.
+
+There had been a child on board who had taken a great fancy to her--a
+child about the age of one that was now running about the grass under
+the watchful eyes of a nurse. His name was Peter, and she and Peter
+used to play tag together. One afternoon when he was very tired he had
+crept into her arms, and she had carried him to her steamer-chair and
+wrapped him in her steamer-rug and held him while he slept. Then she
+had felt exactly as when she looked at the stars. All the things that
+ordinarily counted with her did not at that moment count at all. She
+had kissed the little head lying on her bosom and had thought of
+Don--her heart pounding as it pounded now.
+
+"Oh, Don," she exclaimed, "it's only people in stories who do that
+way!"
+
+"It's the way we can do--if you will."
+
+"There's Dad," she reminded him.
+
+"He let you become engaged, didn't he?"
+
+"Yes; but--you don't know him as well as I."
+
+"I'll put it up to him to-day, if you'll let me. Honest, I don't think
+it's as much his affair as ours, but I'll give him a chance. Shall
+I?"
+
+She reached for his hand and pressed it.
+
+"I'll give him a chance, but I can't wait. We haven't time to bother
+with a wedding--do you mind that?"
+
+"No, Don."
+
+"Then, if he doesn't object--it's to-morrow or next day?"
+
+"You--you take away my breath," she answered.
+
+"And if he does object?"
+
+"Don't let's think of that--now," she said. "Let's walk a little--in
+the park. It's wonderful out here, Don."
+
+Yes, it was wonderful out there--how wonderful he knew better than
+she. She had not had his advantages. She had not had Sally Winthrop to
+point out the wonders and make a man feel them. Of course, it was not
+the place itself--not the little paths, the trees, or even the big,
+bright sky that Frances meant or he meant. It was the sense of
+individuality one got here: the feeling of something within bigger
+than anything without. It was this that permitted Sally Winthrop to
+walk here with her head as high as if she were a princess. It was this
+that made him, by her side, feel almost like a prince. And now Frances
+was beginning to sense it. Don felt his heart quicken.
+
+"This is all you need," he whispered. "Just to walk out here a
+little."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+ONE STUYVESANT
+
+
+That evening, before Frances left Don alone in the study, she bent
+over him and kissed him. Then she heard her father's footsteps and
+ran. Don was remarkably cool. So was Stuyvesant; but there was nothing
+remarkable about that. When his daughter told him that Don was waiting
+to see him, his eyes narrowed the least bit and he glanced at his
+watch. He had a bridge engagement at the club in half an hour. Then he
+placed both hands on his daughter's shoulders and studied her eyes.
+
+"What's the matter, girlie?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing, Dad," she answered. "Only--I'm very happy."
+
+"Good," he nodded. "And that is what I want you to be every minute of
+your life."
+
+Entering his study, Stuyvesant sat down in a big chair to the right of
+the open fire and waved his hand to another opposite him.
+
+"Frances said you wished to talk over something with me," he said.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Don. He did not sit down. He could think better
+on his feet. "It's about our marriage."
+
+Stuyvesant did not answer. He never answered until the other man was
+through. Then he knew where he stood.
+
+"I don't know whether or not you know the sort of will father left,"
+began Don.
+
+Stuyvesant did know, but he gave no indication of the fact. He had
+been waiting a year for something of this sort.
+
+"Anyhow," Don went on, "he took a notion to tie up most of the estate.
+Except for the house--well, he left me pretty nearly strapped. Before
+that, he'd been letting me draw on him for anything I wanted. When I
+asked you for Frances I expected things would go on as they were.
+
+"When the change came, I had a talk with Frances, and we agreed that
+the thing to do was for me to go out and earn about the same sum Dad
+had been handing to me. Ten thousand a year seemed at the time what we
+needed. She said that was what her allowance had been."
+
+Again Don paused, in the hope that Stuyvesant might wish to contribute
+something to the conversation. But Stuyvesant waited for him to
+continue.
+
+"So I went out to earn it. Barton found a position for me with Carter,
+Rand & Seagraves, and I started in. It's a fact I expected to get that
+ten thousand inside of a year."
+
+Don lighted a cigarette. The further he went, the less interest he was
+taking in this explanation. Stuyvesant's apparent indifference
+irritated him.
+
+"That was a year ago," Don resumed. "To-day I'm drawing the same
+salary I started with--twelve hundred. I expect a raise soon--perhaps
+to twenty-five hundred. But the point is this: I figure that it's
+going to take me some five years to get that ten thousand. I don't
+want to wait that long before marrying Frances. Another point is this:
+I don't think any longer that it's necessary. I figure that we can
+live on what I'm earning now. So I've put it up to her."
+
+Don had hurried his argument a little, but, as far as he was
+concerned, he was through. The whole situation was distasteful to
+him. The longer he stayed here, the less it seemed to be any of
+Stuyvesant's business.
+
+"You mean you've asked my daughter to marry you on that salary?"
+inquired Stuyvesant.
+
+"I asked her this afternoon," nodded Don. "I suggested that we get
+married to-morrow or next day. You see, I'm on my vacation, and I have
+only two weeks."
+
+Stuyvesant flicked the ashes from his cigar. "What was her reply?"
+
+"She wanted me to put the proposition before you. That's why I'm
+here."
+
+"I see. And just what do you expect of me?"
+
+"I suppose she wants your consent," answered Don. "Anyhow, it seemed
+only decent to let you know."
+
+Stuyvesant was beginning to chew the end of his cigar--a bit of
+nervousness he had not been guilty of for twenty years. "At least, it
+would have been rather indecent not to have informed me," he answered.
+"But, of course, you don't expect my consent to such an act of
+idiocy."
+
+It was Don's turn to remain silent.
+
+"I've no objection to you personally," Stuyvesant began. "When you
+came to me and asked for my daughter's hand, and I found that she
+wanted to marry you, I gave my consent. I knew your blood, Pendleton,
+and I'd seen enough of you to believe you clean and straight. At that
+time also I had every reason to believe that you were to have a
+sufficient income to support the girl properly. If she had wanted to
+marry you within the next month, I wouldn't have said a word at that
+time. When I learned that conditions had been changed by the terms of
+your father's will, I waited to see what you would do. And I'll tell
+you frankly, I like the way you've handled the situation up to now."
+
+"I don't get that last," Don answered quietly.
+
+"Then let me help you," Stuyvesant resumed grimly. "In the first
+place, get that love-in-a-cottage idea out of your head. It's a pretty
+enough conceit for those who are forced to make the best of their
+personal misfortunes, but that is as far as it goes. Don't for a
+moment think it's a desirable lot."
+
+"In a way, that's just what I _am_ thinking," answered Don.
+
+"Then it's because you don't know any better. It's nonsense. A woman
+wants money and wants the things she can buy with money. She's
+entitled to those things. If she can't have them, then it's her
+misfortune. If the man she looks to to supply them can't give them to
+her, then it's his misfortune. But it's nothing for him to boast
+about. If he places her in such a situation deliberately, it's
+something for him to be ashamed of."
+
+"I can see that, sir," answered Don, "when it's carried too far. But
+you understand that I'm provided with a good home and a salary large
+enough for the ordinary decent things of life."
+
+"That isn't the point," broke in Stuyvesant. "We'll admit the girl
+won't have to go hungry, but she'll go without a lot of other things
+that she's been brought up to have, and, as long as I can supply them,
+things she's entitled to have. On that salary you won't supply her
+with many cars, you won't supply her with the kind of clothes she is
+accustomed to, you won't supply her with all the money she wants to
+spend. What if she does throw it away? That's her privilege now. I've
+worked twenty-five years to get enough so that she can do just that.
+There's not a whim in the world she can't satisfy. And the man who
+marries her must give her every single thing I'm able to give her--and
+then something more."
+
+"In money?" asked Don.
+
+"The something more--not in money."
+
+He rose and stood before Don.
+
+"I've been frank with you, Pendleton, and I'll say I think the girl
+cares for you. But I know Frances better than you, and I know that,
+even if she made up her mind to do without all these things, it would
+mean a sacrifice. As far as I know, she's never had to make a
+sacrifice since she was born. It isn't necessary. Get that point,
+Pendleton. It isn't necessary, and I'll not allow any man to make it
+necessary if I can help it."
+
+He paused as if expecting an outburst from Don. The latter remained
+silent.
+
+"I've trusted you with the girl," Stuyvesant concluded. "Up to now
+I've no fault to find with you. You've lost your head for a minute,
+but you'll get a grip on yourself. Go ahead and make your fortune, and
+come to me again. In the mean while, I'm willing to trust you
+further."
+
+"If that means not asking Frances to marry me to-morrow, you can't,
+sir."
+
+"You--you wouldn't ask her to go against my wishes in the matter?"
+
+"I would, sir."
+
+"And you expect her to do so?"
+
+"I hope she will."
+
+"Well, she won't," Stuyvesant answered. He was chewing his cigar
+again.
+
+"You spoke of the something more, sir," said Don. "I think I know what
+that means, and it's a whole lot more than anything your ten thousand
+can give. When I found myself stony broke, I was dazed for a while,
+and thought a good deal as you think. Then this summer I found the
+something more. I wouldn't swap back."
+
+"Then stay where you are," snapped Stuyvesant. "Don't try to drag in
+Frances."
+
+Don prepared to leave.
+
+"It's a pity you aren't stony broke too," he observed.
+
+"Thanks," answered Stuyvesant. "But I'm not, and I don't intend to
+have my daughter put in that position."
+
+"You haven't forgotten that I have a house and twelve hundred?"
+
+"I haven't forgotten that is all you have."
+
+"You haven't forgotten the something more?"
+
+Stuyvesant looked at his watch.
+
+"I must be excused now, Pendleton," he concluded. "I think, on the
+whole, it will be better if you don't call here after this."
+
+"As you wish," answered Pendleton. "But I hope you'll come and see
+us?"
+
+"Damn you, Pendleton!" he exploded.
+
+Then he turned quickly and left the room. So, after all, it was he in
+the end who lost his temper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE STARS AGAIN
+
+
+Don went to the nearest telephone and rang up Frances.
+
+"Your father lost his temper," he explained. "He ordered me not to
+call again; so will you please to meet me on the corner right away?"
+
+"I've just seen him," she answered. "Oh, Don, it was awful!"
+
+"It is the best thing that could have happened," he said. "We have to
+meet in the park now. It's the only place left."
+
+"Don, dear, he told me not to meet you anywhere again. He--he was
+quite savage about it."
+
+"He had no right to tell you that," Don answered. "Anyhow, I must see
+you. We'll talk it over under the stars."
+
+"But, Don--"
+
+"Please to hurry," he said.
+
+She slipped a scarf over her hair and a cape over her shoulders, and
+walked to the corner, looking about fearfully. He gripped her arm and
+led her confidently away from the house and toward the park. The sky
+was clear, and just beyond the Big Dipper he saw shining steadily the
+star he had given Sally Winthrop. He smiled. It was as if she
+reassured him.
+
+"What did you say to him, Don?" she panted.
+
+"I told him I wished to marry you to-morrow," he answered.
+
+"And he--"
+
+"He said I shouldn't. He said he could give you more with his ten
+thousand than I could give you with my twelve hundred. I told him I
+could give you more with my twelve hundred than he could with his ten
+thousand."
+
+"I've never seen him so angry," she trembled.
+
+"I'd never before seen him angry at all," he admitted. "But, after
+all, that isn't important, is it? The important thing is whether or
+not he's right. That's what you and I must decide for ourselves."
+
+She did not quite understand. She thought her father had already
+decided this question. However, she said nothing. In something of a
+daze, she allowed herself to be led on toward the park--at night a
+big, shadowy region with a star-pricked sky overhead. Like one led in
+a dream she went, her thoughts quite confused, but with the firm grip
+of his hand upon her arm steadying her. He did not speak again until
+the paved street and the stone buildings were behind them--until they
+were among the trees and low bushes and gravel paths. He led her to a
+bench.
+
+"See those stars?" he asked, pointing.
+
+"Yes, Don."
+
+"I want you to keep looking at them while I'm talking to you," he
+said.
+
+Just beyond the Big Dipper he saw the star he had given Sally
+Winthrop. It smiled reassuringly at him.
+
+"What I've learned this summer," he said, "is that, after all, the
+clear sky and those stars are as much a part of New York as the
+streets and high buildings below them. And when you live up there a
+little while you forget about the twelve hundred or the ten thousand.
+Those details don't count up there. Do you see that?"
+
+"Yes, Don."
+
+"The trouble with your father, and the trouble with you, and the
+trouble with me, until a little while ago, is that we didn't get out
+here in the park enough where the stars can be seen. I'm pretty sure,
+if I'd been sitting here with your father, he'd have felt different."
+
+She was doing as he bade her and keeping her eyes raised. She saw the
+steady stars and the twinkling stars and the vast purple depths. So,
+when she felt his arm about her, that did not seem strange.
+
+"It's up there we'll be living most of the time," he was saying.
+
+"Yes, Don."
+
+"And that's all free. The poorer you are, the freer it is. That's true
+of a lot of things. You've no idea the things you can get here in New
+York if you haven't too much money. Your father said that if you don't
+have cash you go without, when as a matter of fact it's when you have
+cash you go without."
+
+She lowered her eyes to his. What he was saying sounded topsy-turvy.
+
+"It's a fact," he ran on. "Why, you can get hungry if you don't have
+too much money; and, honest, I've had better things to eat this
+summer, because of that, than I ever had in my life. Then, if you
+don't have too much money, you can work. It sounds strange to say
+there's any fun in that, but there is. I want to get you into the
+game, Frances. You're going to like it. Farnsworth is going to let me
+sell next month. It's like making the 'Varsity. I'm going to have a
+salary and commission, so you see it will be partly a personal fight.
+You can help me. Why, the very things we were planning to get done
+with before we married are the very things that are worth while. We
+can stand shoulder to shoulder now and play the game together. You can
+have part of the fun."
+
+She thrilled with the magic of his voice, but his words were quite
+meaningless.
+
+"You aren't looking at the stars," he reminded her. She looked up
+again.
+
+"So," he said, "there's no sense in waiting any longer, is there? The
+sooner we're married, the sooner we can begin. If we're married
+to-morrow, we'll have almost two weeks in the mountains. And then--"
+
+She appeared frightened.
+
+"Oh, Don, we--we couldn't get married like that, anyway."
+
+"Why not?" he demanded.
+
+"It--it isn't possible."
+
+"Certainly it's possible."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No, no. I--I couldn't. Oh, Don, you'll have to give me time to
+think."
+
+"There isn't time," he frowned.
+
+"We must take time. I'm--I'm afraid."
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"Afraid of myself," she answered quickly. "Afraid of Dad. Oh, I'm
+afraid of every one."
+
+"Of me?" He took her hand.
+
+"When you speak of to-morrow I am," she admitted. "While you were
+talking, there were moments when--when I could do as you wish. But
+they didn't last."
+
+"That's because you didn't keep your eyes on the stars," he assured
+her gently.
+
+"That's what I'm afraid of--that I shouldn't be able to keep them
+there. Don, dear, you don't know how selfish I am and--and how many
+things I want."
+
+She was seeing herself clearly now and speaking from the depths of her
+soul.
+
+"Maybe it isn't all my fault. And you're wonderful, Don. It's that
+which makes me see myself."
+
+He kissed her hand. "Dear you," he whispered, "I know the woman 'way
+down deep in you, and it's she I want."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No," she answered. "It's some woman you've placed there--some woman
+who might have been there--that you see. But she isn't there,
+because--because I can't go with you."
+
+Some woman he had put there. He looked at the stars, and the little
+star by the Big Dipper was shining steadily at him. He passed his hand
+over his forehead.
+
+"If she were really in me, she'd go with you to-morrow," Frances ran
+on excitedly. "She'd want to get into the game. She'd want to be
+hungry with you, and she wouldn't care about anything else in the
+world but you. She--she'd want to suffer, Don. She'd be almost glad
+that you had no money. Her father wouldn't count, because she'd care
+so much."
+
+She drew her cape about her shoulders.
+
+"Yes," he answered in a hoarse whisper; "she's like that."
+
+"So, don't you see--"
+
+"Good Lord, I do see!" he exclaimed.
+
+Now he saw.
+
+With his head swimming, with his breath coming short, he saw. But he
+was as dazed as a man suddenly given sight in the glare of the blazing
+sun.
+
+Frances was frightened by his silence.
+
+"I--I think we'd better go back now," she said gently.
+
+He escorted her to the house without quite knowing how he found the
+way. At the door she said:--
+
+"Don't you understand, Don?"
+
+"Yes," he answered; "for the first time."
+
+"And you'll not think too badly of me?"
+
+"It isn't anything you can help," he answered. "It isn't anything I
+can help, either."
+
+"Don't think too badly of Dad," she pleaded. "He'll cool down soon,
+and then--you must come and see me again."
+
+She held out her hand, and he took it. Then swiftly she turned and
+went into the house. He hurried back to the path--to the path where on
+Saturday afternoons he had walked with Sally Winthrop.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+SEEING
+
+
+He saw now. Blind fool that he had been, month after month! He sank on
+a bench and went back in his thoughts to the first time he had ever
+seen Sally Winthrop. She had reminded him that it was luncheon time,
+and when he had gone out she had been waiting for him. She must have
+been waiting for him, or he never would have found her. And she had
+known he was hungry.
+
+"She'd want to be hungry with you," Frances had said.
+
+How had Sally Winthrop known that he was hungry? She had known, and
+had shared with him what she had.
+
+Then incident after incident in the office came back to him. It was
+she who had taught him how to work. It was for her that he had
+worked.
+
+Frances had used another phrase: "She'd be almost glad you had no
+money."
+
+There was only one woman in the world he knew who would care for a man
+like that--if she cared at all. That brought him to his feet again. He
+glared about as if searching for her in the dark. Why wasn't she here
+now, so that he might ask her if she did care? She had no business to
+go off and leave him like this! He did not know where she was.
+
+Don struck a match and looked at his watch. It was eight-thirty.
+Somehow, he must find her. He had her old address, and it was possible
+that she had left word where she had gone. At any rate, this was the
+only clue he had.
+
+He made his way back to the Avenue, and, at a pace that at times
+almost broke into a run, went toward the club and the first taxi he
+saw. In twenty minutes he was standing on the steps where he had last
+seen her. She had wished him to say "good-bye"; but he remembered that
+he had refused to say "good-bye."
+
+The landlady knew Miss Winthrop's address, but she was not inclined to
+give it to him. At first she did not like the expression in his eyes.
+He was too eager.
+
+"Seems to me," she argued, "she'd have told parties where she was
+going if she wanted them to know."
+
+"This is very important," he insisted.
+
+"Maybe it's a lot more important to you than it is to her," she
+replied.
+
+"But--"
+
+"You can leave your name and address, and I'll write to her," she
+offered.
+
+"Look here," Don said desperately. "Do you want to know what my
+business is with her?"
+
+"It's none of my business, but--"
+
+"I want to ask her to marry me," he broke in. "That's a respectable
+business, isn't it?"
+
+He reached in his pocket and drew out a bill. He slipped it into her
+hand.
+
+"Want to marry her?" exclaimed the woman. "Well, now, I wouldn't stand
+in the way of that. Will you step in while I get the address?"
+
+"I'll wait here. Only hurry. There may be a late train."
+
+She was back in a few seconds, holding a slip of paper in her hand.
+
+"It's to Brenton, Maine, she's gone."
+
+Don grabbed the paper.
+
+"Thanks."
+
+He was halfway down the steps when she called after him:--
+
+"Good luck to ye, sir."
+
+"Thanks again," he called back.
+
+Then he gave his order to the driver:--
+
+"To the Grand Central."
+
+Don found that he could take the midnight train to Boston and connect
+there with a ten-o'clock train next morning. This would get him into
+Portland in time for a connection that would land him at Brenton at
+four that afternoon. He went back to the house to pack his bag. As he
+opened the door and went in, it seemed as if she might already be
+there--as if she might be waiting for him. Had she stepped forward to
+greet him and announce that dinner was ready, he would not have been
+greatly surprised. It was as if she had been here all this last year.
+But it was only Nora who came to greet him.
+
+"I'm going away to-night for a few days--perhaps for two weeks," he
+told Nora.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I'll wire you what my plans are--either to-morrow or next day."
+
+"And it is to be soon, sir?"
+
+"I can't tell you for sure, Nora, until I've cleared up one or two
+little matters; but--you can wish me luck, anyway."
+
+"I'll do that, sir."
+
+"And the house is ready, isn't it?"
+
+"Everything is ready, sir."
+
+"That's fine. Now I'm going to pack."
+
+His packing finished, Don went downstairs with still an hour or more
+on his hands before train-time. But he did not care to go anywhere. He
+was absolutely contented here. He was content merely to wander from
+room to room. He sat down at the piano in the dark, and for a long
+while played to her--played to her just the things he knew she would
+like.
+
+It was half-past eleven before he left the house, and then he went
+almost reluctantly. She was more here than anywhere in the world
+except where he was going. He found himself quite calm about her here.
+The moment he came out on the street again he noticed a difference.
+His own phrase came back to frighten him:--
+
+"She'd care like that--if she cared at all."
+
+Supposing that after he found her, she did not care?
+
+At the station he wondered if it were best to wire her, but decided
+against it. She might run away. It was never possible to tell what a
+woman might do, and Sally Winthrop was an adept at concealing herself.
+He remembered that period when, although he had been in the same
+office with her, she had kept herself as distant as if across the
+ocean. She had only to say, "Not at home," and it was as if she said,
+"I am not anywhere."
+
+He went to his berth at once, and had, on the whole, a bad night
+of it. He asked himself a hundred questions that he could not
+answer--that Sally Winthrop alone could answer. Though it was only
+lately that he had prided himself on knowing her desires in
+everything, he was forced to leave all these questions unanswered.
+
+At ten the next morning he took the train for Portland. At two he was
+on the train for Brenton and hurrying through a strange country to
+her side.
+
+When he reached Brenton he was disappointed not to find her when he
+stepped from the train. The station had been so closely identified
+with her through the long journey that he had lost sight of the fact
+that it existed for any other purpose. But only a few station loafers
+were there to greet him, and they revealed but an indifferent
+interest. He approached one of them.
+
+"Can you tell me where Miss Winthrop is stopping?"
+
+The man looked blank.
+
+"No one of that name in this town," he finally answered.
+
+"Isn't this Brenton?"
+
+"It's Brenton, right enough."
+
+"Then she's here," declared Don.
+
+"Is she visitin'?" inquired the man.
+
+Don nodded.
+
+"A cousin, or something."
+
+A second man spoke up:--
+
+"Ain't she the one who's stopping with Mrs. Halliday?"
+
+"Rather slight, with brown eyes," volunteered Don.
+
+"Dunno the color of her eyes," answered the first man, with a wink at
+the second. "But thar's some one stoppin' thar. Been here couple days
+or so."
+
+"That's she," Don decided.
+
+He drew a dollar bill from his pocket.
+
+"I want one of you to take a note to her from me."
+
+He wrote on the back of a card:--
+
+I'm at the station. I must see you at once.
+
+  DON.
+
+"Take that to her right away and bring me an answer," he ordered.
+
+The man took both bill and card and disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+MOSTLY SALLY
+
+
+It was an extremely frightened girl who within five minutes appeared
+upon the station platform. She was quite out of breath, for she had
+been running. As he came toward her with outstretched hands, she
+stared at him from head to foot, as if to make sure he was not minus
+an arm or a leg.
+
+"Won't you even shake hands with me?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"You--you gave me such a fright," she panted.
+
+"How?"
+
+"I thought--I thought you must have been run over."
+
+He seemed rather pleased.
+
+"And you cared?" he asked eagerly.
+
+She was fast recovering herself now.
+
+"Well, it wouldn't be unnatural to care, would it, if you expected to
+find a friend all run over?"
+
+"And, now that you find I'm not a mangled corpse, you don't care at
+all."
+
+Of course he wouldn't choose to be a corpse, because he would not have
+been able to enjoy the situation; but, on the whole, he was sorry that
+he did not have a mangled hand or something to show. Evidently his
+whole hand did not interest her--she had not yet offered to take it.
+
+"How in the world did you get here?" she demanded.
+
+"I took the train."
+
+"But--has anything happened?"
+
+"Lots of things have happened," he said. "That's what I want to tell
+you about."
+
+He looked around. His messenger was taking an eager interest in the
+situation.
+
+"That's why I came to see you," he explained. "Of course, if it's
+necessary to confide also in your neighbor over there, I'll do it; but
+I thought that perhaps you could suggest some less public place."
+
+She appeared frightened in a different sort of way now.
+
+"But, Mr. Pendleton--"
+
+"I'm going to remain here perhaps a day or two," he interrupted.
+
+To him the most obvious course was for her to ask him to meet her aunt
+and invite him to remain there.
+
+"Is there a hotel in town?" he asked.
+
+"I--I don't think so," she faltered.
+
+"Then," he decided, "I must find some sort of camping-place. If you
+know a bit of woods where I can spend the night, you might direct
+me."
+
+He was quite himself now. It was a relief to her. It put her quite off
+her guard.
+
+"Won't you come and meet my aunt?" she invited.
+
+He picked up his suitcase at once.
+
+"It will be a pleasure," he answered.
+
+She could not imagine what her aunt would think when she appeared so
+abruptly escorting a young man with a suitcase, but that did not seem
+to matter. She knew no better than her aunt what had brought him here;
+but, now that he was here, it was certain that she must take care of
+him. She could not allow him to wander homelessly around the village
+or permit him to camp out like a gypsy. It did not occur to her to
+reason that this predicament was wholly his fault. All the old feeling
+of responsibility came back.
+
+As they walked side by side down the street, he was amazed to see how
+much good even these two days in the country had done her. There was
+more color in her cheeks and more life in her walk. She was wearing a
+middy blouse, and that made her look five years younger.
+
+She looked up at him.
+
+"I--I thought you had something very important to do in these next few
+days," she reminded him.
+
+"I have," he answered.
+
+"Then--I don't understand how you came here."
+
+On the train it had seemed to him that he must explain within the
+first five minutes; but, now that she was actually within sound of his
+voice, actually within reach, there seemed to be no hurry. In her
+presence his confidence increased with every passing minute. For one
+thing, he could argue with her, and whenever in the past he had
+argued with her he had succeeded.
+
+"I needed you to explain certain things to me," he replied.
+
+She looked away from him.
+
+"About what?" she asked quickly.
+
+"About getting me married."
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed.
+
+He could not tell what she meant by the little cry. He would have
+asked her had they not at that moment turned into a gate that led
+through an old-fashioned garden to a small white cottage.
+
+"I'll have to run ahead and prepare Mrs. Halliday," she said.
+
+So she left him upon the doorstep, and he took off his hat to the
+cool, pine-laden breeze that came from a mountain in the distance. He
+liked this town at once. He liked the elm-lined village street, and
+the snug white houses and the quiet and content of it. Then he found
+himself being introduced rather jerkily to Mrs. Halliday--a tall, thin
+New England type, with kindly eyes set in a sharp face. It was evident
+at once that after her first keen inspection of this stranger she was
+willing to accept him with much less suspicion than Miss Winthrop.
+
+"I told Sally this morning, when I spilled the sugar, that a stranger
+was coming," she exclaimed. "Now you come right upstairs. I reckon
+you'll want to wash up after that long ride."
+
+"It's mighty good of you to take me in this way," he said.
+
+"Laws sake, what's a spare room for?"
+
+She led the way to a small room with white curtains at the windows and
+rag rugs upon the floor and a big silk crazy-quilt on an old
+four-poster bed. She hurried about and found soap and towels for him,
+and left him with the hope that he would make himself at home.
+
+And at once he did feel at home. He felt at home just because Sally
+Winthrop was somewhere in the same house. That was the secret of it.
+He had felt at home in the station as soon as she appeared; he had
+felt at home in the village because she had walked by his side; and
+now he felt at home here. And by that he meant that he felt very free
+and very happy and very much a part of any section of the world she
+might happen to be in. It had been so in New York, and it was so
+here.
+
+He was downstairs again in five minutes, looking for Sally Winthrop.
+It seemed that Mrs. Halliday's chief concern now was about supper, and
+that Sally was out in the kitchen helping her. He found that out by
+walking in upon her and finding her in a blue gingham apron. Her
+cheeks turned very red and she hurriedly removed the apron.
+
+"Don't let me disturb you," he protested.
+
+That was very easy to say, but he did disturb her. Then Mrs. Halliday
+shooed her out of the kitchen.
+
+"You run right along now; I can attend to things myself."
+
+"I'd like to help, too," said Don.
+
+"Run along--both of you," insisted Mrs. Halliday. "You'd be more
+bother than help."
+
+So the two found themselves on the front steps again, and Don
+suggested they remain there. The sun was getting low and bathing the
+street in a soft light.
+
+"I have something very important to say to you," he began.
+
+"To me?" she exclaimed.
+
+Again there was the expression of astonishment and--something more.
+
+"It's about my getting married," he nodded.
+
+"But I thought that was all settled!"
+
+"It is," he admitted.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I think it was settled long before I knew it."
+
+"Then you're to be married right away?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"That will be nice."
+
+"It will be wonderful," he exclaimed. "It will be the most wonderful
+thing in the world!"
+
+"But why did you come 'way down here?"
+
+"To talk it over with you. You see, a lot depends upon you."
+
+"Me?"
+
+Again that questioning personal pronoun.
+
+"A great deal depends upon you. You are to say when it is to be."
+
+"Mr. Pendleton!"
+
+"I wish you'd remember I'm not in the office of Carter, Rand &
+Seagraves now. Can't you call me just Don?"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"Because," he explained, "I mean to call you Sally."
+
+"You mustn't."
+
+"I mean to call you that all the rest of my life," he went on more
+soberly. "Don't you understand how much depends upon you?"
+
+Startled, she glanced up swiftly. What she saw in his eyes made her
+catch her breath. He was speaking rapidly now:--
+
+"Everything depends upon you--upon no one else in all the world but
+you. I discovered that in less than a day after you left. It's been
+like that ever since I met you. I love you, and I've come down here to
+marry you--to take you back with me to the house that's all
+ready--back to the house you've made ready."
+
+She gave a little cry and covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Don't do that," he pleaded.
+
+[Illustration: "IT'S ABOUT MY GETTING MARRIED"]
+
+She looked as if she were crying.
+
+"Sally--Sally Winthrop, you aren't crying?"
+
+He placed a hand upon her arm.
+
+"Don't touch me!" she sobbed.
+
+"Why shouldn't I touch you?"
+
+"Because--because this is all a horrible mistake."
+
+"I'm trying to correct a horrible mistake," he answered gently.
+
+"No--no--no. You must go back to her--right away."
+
+"To Frances?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"You don't understand. She doesn't want to marry me."
+
+"You asked her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then--and then you came to me?"
+
+"Yes, little girl. She sent me to you. She--why, it was she that made
+me see straight!"
+
+Her face was still concealed.
+
+"I--I wish you'd go away," she sobbed.
+
+"You don't understand!" he answered fiercely. "I'm not going away. I
+love you, and I've come to get you. I won't go away until you come
+with me."
+
+She rose to her feet, her back toward him.
+
+"Go away!" she cried.
+
+Then she ran into the house, leaving him standing there dazed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+DON EXPLAINS
+
+
+It seemed that, in spite of her business training and the unsentimental
+outlook on life upon which she had rather prided herself, Sally
+Winthrop did not differ greatly from other women. Shut up in her
+room, a deep sense of humiliation overwhelmed her. He had asked this
+other girl to marry him, and when she refused he had come to her! He
+thought as lightly of her as that--a mere second choice when the first
+was made impossible. He had no justification for that. This other had
+sent him to her--doubtless with a smile of scorn upon her pretty lips.
+
+But what was she crying about and making her nose all red? She should
+have answered him with another smile and sent him back again. Then he
+would have understood how little she cared--would have understood that
+she did not care enough even to feel the sting of such an insult as
+this. For the two days she had been here awaiting the announcement of
+his marriage she had said over and over again that she did not
+care--said it the first thing upon waking and the last thing upon
+retiring. Even when she woke up in the night, as she did many times,
+she said it to herself. It had been a great comfort to her, for it was
+a full and complete answer to any wayward thoughts that took her
+unaware.
+
+She did not care about him, so what was she sniveling about and making
+her nose all red? She dabbed her handkerchief into her eyes and sought
+her powder-box. If he had only kept away from her everything would
+have been all right. Within the next ten or eleven days she would have
+readjusted herself and been ready to take up her work again, with
+another lesson learned. She would have gone back to her room wiser and
+with still more confidence in herself. And now he was downstairs,
+waiting for her. There was no way she could escape him. She must do
+all those things without the help of seclusion. She must not care,
+with him right before her eyes.
+
+She began to cry again. It was not fair. It was the sense of
+injustice that now broke her down. She was doing her best, and no one
+would help her. Even he made it as hard for her as possible. On top of
+that he had added this new insult. He wished a wife, and if he could
+not have this one he would take that one--as Farnsworth selected his
+stenographers. He had come to her because she had allowed herself to
+lunch with him and dine with him and walk with him. He had presumed
+upon what she had allowed herself to say to him. Because she had
+interested herself in him and tried to help him, he thought she was to
+be as lightly considered as this. He had not waited even a decent
+interval, but had come to her direct from Frances--she of the scornful
+smile.
+
+Once again Sally stopped crying. If only she could hold that smile
+before her, all might yet be well. Whenever she looked into his eyes
+and thought them tender, she must remember that smile. Whenever his
+voice tempted her against her reason, she must remember that--for
+to-night, anyhow; and to-morrow he must go back. Either that or she
+would leave. She could not endure this very long--certainly not for
+eleven days.
+
+"Sally--where are you?"
+
+It was Mrs. Halliday's voice from downstairs.
+
+"I'm coming," she answered.
+
+The supper was more of an epicurean than a social success. Mrs.
+Halliday had made hot biscuit, and opened a jar of strawberry
+preserves, and sliced a cold chicken which she had originally intended
+for to-morrow's dinner; but, in spite of that, she was forced to sit
+by and watch her two guests do scarcely more than nibble.
+
+"I declare, I don't think young folks eat as much as they useter in my
+days," she commented.
+
+Don tried to excuse himself by referring to a late dinner at Portland;
+but Sally, as usual, had no excuse whatever. She was forced to endure
+in silence the searching inquiry of Mrs. Halliday's eyes as well as
+Don's. For the half-hour they were at table she heartily wished she
+was back again in her own room in New York. There, at least, she would
+have been free to shut herself up, away from all eyes but her own.
+Moreover, she had to look forward to what she should do at the end of
+the meal. For all she saw, she was going to be then in even a worse
+plight than she was now. For he would be able to talk, and she must
+needs answer and keep from crying. Above all things else, she must
+keep from crying. She did not wish him to think her a little fool as
+well as other things.
+
+She was forced to confess that after the first five minutes Don did
+his best to relieve the tension. He talked to Mrs. Halliday about one
+thing and another, and kept on talking. And, though it was quite
+evident to her that he had no appetite, he managed to consume three of
+the hot biscuit. After supper, when she rose to help her aunt in the
+kitchen, he wished also to help. But Mrs. Halliday would have neither
+of them. That made it bad for her again, for it left her with no
+alternative but to sit again upon the front porch with him. So there
+they were again, right back where they started.
+
+"What did you run into the house for?" he demanded.
+
+"Please let's not talk any more, of that," she pleaded.
+
+"But it's the nub of the whole matter," he insisted.
+
+"I went in because I did not want to talk any more."
+
+"Very well. Then you needn't talk. But you can listen, can't you?"
+
+"That's the same thing."
+
+"It's exactly the opposite thing. You can listen, and just nod or
+shake your head. Then you won't have to speak a word. Will you do
+that?"
+
+It was an absurd proposition, but she was forced either to accept it
+or to run away again. Somehow, it did not appear especially dignified
+to keep on running away, when in the end she must needs come back
+again. So she nodded.
+
+"Let's go back to the beginning," he suggested. "That's somewhere
+toward the middle of my senior year. I'd known Frances before that,
+but about that time she came on to Boston, and we went to a whole lot
+of dances and things together."
+
+He paused a moment.
+
+"I wish I'd brought a picture of her with me," he resumed thoughtfully,
+"because she's really a peach."
+
+Miss Winthrop looked up quickly. He was apparently serious.
+
+"She's tall and dark and slender," he went on, "and when she's all
+togged up she certainly looks like a queen. She had a lot of friends
+in town, and we kept going about four nights a week. Then came the
+ball games, and then Class Day. You ever been to Class Day?"
+
+Miss Winthrop shook her head with a quick little jerk.
+
+"It's all music and Japanese lanterns, and if you're sure of your
+degree it's a sort of fairyland where nothing is quite real. You just
+feel at the time that it's always going to be like that. It was then I
+asked her to marry me."
+
+Miss Winthrop was sitting with her chin in her hands, looking intently
+at the brick path leading to the house.
+
+"You listening?"
+
+She nodded jerkily.
+
+"It seemed all right then. And it seemed all right after that.
+Stuyvesant was agreeable enough, and so I came on to New York. Then
+followed Dad's death. Dad was a queer sort, but he was square as a
+die. I'm sorry he went before he had a chance to meet you. I didn't
+realize what good pals we were until afterward. But, anyway, he died,
+and he tied the property all up as I've told you. Maybe he thought if
+he didn't I'd blow it in, because I see now I'd been getting rid of a
+good many dollars. I went to Frances and told her all about it, and
+offered to cancel the engagement. But she was a good sport and said
+she'd wait until I earned ten thousand a year. You listening?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Because it's right here you come in. I was going to get it inside a
+year, and you know just about how much chance I stood. But it looked
+easy to her, because her father was pulling down about that much a
+month, and not killing himself either. I didn't know any more about it
+than she did; but the difference between us was that as soon as I was
+on the inside I learned a lot she didn't learn. I learned how hard it
+is to get ten thousand a year; more than that, I learned how
+unnecessary it is to get it. That's what you taught me."
+
+"I--I didn't mean to," she interrupted.
+
+"You're talking," he reminded her.
+
+She closed her lips firmly together.
+
+"Whether you meant to or not isn't the point. You did teach me that
+and a lot of other things. I didn't know it at the time, and went
+plugging ahead, thinking everything was just the same when it wasn't
+at all. Frances was headed one way and I was headed another. Then she
+went abroad, and after that I learned faster than ever. I learned what
+a home can be made to mean, and work can be made to mean, and life can
+be made to mean. All those things you were teaching me. I didn't know
+it, and you didn't know it, and Frances didn't know it. That ten
+thousand grew less and less important to me, and all the while I
+thought it must be growing less and less important to her. I thought
+that way after the walks in the park and the walks in the country and
+that night at Coney."
+
+She shuddered.
+
+"I thought it even after she came back--even after my talk with
+Stuyvesant. He told me I was a fool and that Frances wouldn't listen
+to me. I didn't believe him and put it up to her. And then--for the
+first time--I saw that what I had been learning she had not been
+learning."
+
+Don turned and looked at the girl by his side. It was growing dark
+now, so that he could not see her very well; but he saw that she was
+huddled up as he had found her that day in the little restaurant.
+
+"Frances didn't have the nerve to come with me," he said. "Her father
+stood in the way, and she couldn't get by him. I want to be fair about
+this. At the beginning, if she'd come with me I'd have married
+her--though Lord knows how it would have worked out. But she didn't
+dare--and she's a pretty good sport, too. There's a lot in her she
+doesn't know anything about. It would do her good to know you."
+
+Again he paused. It was as if he were trying hard to keep his
+balance.
+
+"I want her to know you," he went on. "Because, after all, it was she
+who made me see you. There, in a second, in the park, she pointed you
+out to me, until you stood before me as clear as the star by the Big
+Dipper. She said, 'It's some other girl you're seeing in me--a girl
+who would dare to go hungry with you.' Then I knew. So I came right to
+you."
+
+She was still huddled up.
+
+"And here I am," he concluded.
+
+There he was. He did not need to remind her of that. Even when she
+closed her eyes so that she might not see him, she was aware of it.
+Even when he was through talking and she did not hear his voice, she
+was aware of it. And, though she was miserable about it, she would
+have been more miserable had he been anywhere else.
+
+"I'm here, little girl," he said patiently.
+
+"Even after I told you to go away," she choked.
+
+"Even after you told me to go away."
+
+"If you only hadn't come at all!"
+
+"What else was there for me to do?"
+
+"You--you could have gone to that camp with her. She wanted you to
+go."
+
+"I told her I couldn't go there--long before I knew why."
+
+"You could have gone--oh, there are so many other places you could go!
+And this is the only place I _could_ go."
+
+"It's the only place I could go, too. Honest, it was. I'd have been
+miserable anywhere else, and--well, you aren't making it very
+comfortable for me here."
+
+It seemed natural to have him blame her for his discomfort when it was
+all his own fault. It seemed so natural, in the midst of the confusion
+of all the rest of the tangle, that it was restful.
+
+"I'm sorry," she said.
+
+"That's something," he nodded.
+
+"I--I guess the only thing for me to do is to go away myself."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Back to New York. Oh, I wish I hadn't taken a vacation!"
+
+"We'll go back if you say so; but it seems foolish after traveling all
+this distance."
+
+"I meant to go back alone," she hastened to correct him.
+
+"And leave me with Mrs. Halliday?"
+
+"Please don't mix things all up!"
+
+"It's you who are mixing things all up," he said earnestly. "That
+isn't like you, little girl. It's more like you to straighten things
+out. There's a straight road ahead of us now, and if you'll only take
+it we'll never leave it again. All we've got to do is to hunt up a
+parson and get married, and then we'll go anywhere you say, or not go
+anywhere at all. It's as simple as that. Then, when our vacation is
+up, I'll go back to Carter, Rand & Seagraves, and I'll tell Farnsworth
+he'll have to get a new stenographer. Maybe he'll discharge me for
+that, but if he doesn't I'll tell him I want to get out and sell. And
+then there's nothing more to it. With you to help--"
+
+He tried to find her hands, but she had them pressed over her eyes.
+
+"With you back home to help," he repeated--"there's not anything in
+the world we won't get."
+
+And the dream woman in Sally answered to the woman on the steps:--
+
+"There's not anything more in the world we'll want when we're home."
+
+But Don did not hear that. All he heard was a sigh. To the dream woman
+what he said sounded like music; but the woman on the steps answered
+cynically:--
+
+"All he is saying to you now he said to that other. There, where the
+music was playing and the Japanese lanterns were bobbing, he said it
+to her. That was a fairy world, as this is a fairy night; but back in
+New York it will all be different. There are no fairies in New York.
+Every time you have thought there were, you have been disappointed."
+
+She rose swiftly to her feet.
+
+"Oh, we mustn't talk about it!" she exclaimed.
+
+He too rose, and he placed both his hands upon her shoulders.
+
+"I don't understand," he said quickly. "What is it you don't
+believe?"
+
+"I don't believe in fairies," she answered bitterly.
+
+"Don't you believe that I love you?"
+
+"To-night--perhaps," she answered.
+
+Her eyes were not meeting his.
+
+"You don't believe my love will last?"
+
+"I--I don't know."
+
+"Because of Frances?"
+
+"Everything is so different in New York," she answered.
+
+"Because of Frances?"
+
+She was not sure enough herself to answer that. She did not wish to be
+unfair. He removed his hands from her shoulders and stood back a
+little.
+
+"I thought you'd understand about her. I thought you were the one
+woman in the world who'd understand."
+
+She looked up quickly.
+
+"Perhaps it's easier for men to understand those things than women,"
+she said.
+
+"There's so little to understand."
+
+As he spoke, truly it seemed so. But it was always that way when she
+was with him. Always, if she was not very careful, he made her see
+exactly as he saw. It was so at Jacques'; it was so at Coney. But her
+whole life was at stake now. If she made a mistake, one way or the
+other, she must live it out--in New York. She must be by herself when
+she reached her decision.
+
+"In the morning," she gasped.
+
+"All right," he answered.
+
+He took her hand--catching her unawares.
+
+"See," he said. "Up there is the star I gave you. It will always be
+there--always be yours. And, if you can, I want you to think of me as
+like that star."
+
+Upstairs in her room that night, Miss Winthrop sat by her window and
+tried to place herself back in New York--back in the office of Carter,
+Rand & Seagraves. It was there, after all, and not up among the stars,
+that she had gained her experience of men.
+
+From behind her typewriter she had watched them come and go, or if
+they stayed had watched them in the making. It was from behind her
+typewriter she had met Don. She remembered every detail of that first
+day: how he stood at the ticker like a boy with a new toy, waiting for
+Farnsworth; how he came from Farnsworth's office and took a seat near
+her, and for the next half-hour watched her fingers until she became
+nervous. At first she thought he was going to be "fresh." Her mind was
+made up to squelch him at the first opportunity. Yet, when it had
+come lunch-time and he sat on, not knowing what to do, she had taken
+pity on him. She knew he would sit on there until night unless some
+one showed an interest in him. She was glad now that she had, because
+he had been hungry. Had it not been for her, he would not have had
+anything to eat all day--possibly not all that week. She would never
+cease being glad that she had discovered this fact in time.
+
+But she had intended that her interest should cease, once she had made
+sure that he was fed and in receipt of his first week's salary. That
+much she would do for any man, good, bad, or indifferent. That was all
+she had intended. She could say that honestly. When he had appeared at
+her lunch-place the second and third time, she had resented it. But
+she had also welcomed his coming. And, when she had bidden him not to
+come, she had missed him.
+
+Right here she marked a distinction between him and the others. She
+missed him outside the office--not only at noon, but at night. When
+she had opened that absurd box of flowers, she brought him into her
+room with her. She saw now that at the precise moment she opened that
+box she had lost her point of view. If she had wished to maintain it,
+she should have promptly done the box up again and sent it back to
+him.
+
+After this their relation had changed. There could be no doubt about
+that. However, except for the initial fault of not returning the
+roses, she could not see where it was distinctly her fault. She had
+gone on day after day, unaware that any significant change was taking
+place. There had been the dinner at Jacques', and then--
+
+With her chin in her hands, she sat by the open window and lived over
+again those days. Her eyes grew afire and her cheeks grew rosy and a
+great happiness thrilled her. So--until they reached that night at
+Coney and Frances smiled through the dark at her.
+
+Then she sprang to her feet and paced the floor, with the color gone
+from her cheeks. During all those glorious days this other girl had
+been in the background of his thoughts. It was for her he had been
+working--of her he had been thinking. She clenched her hands and
+faced the girl.
+
+"Why didn't you stay home with him, then?" she cried. "You left him to
+me and I took care of him. He'd have lost his position if it hadn't
+been for me.
+
+"I kept after him until he made good," she went on. "I saw that he
+came to work on time, I showed him what to learn. It was I, not you,
+that made him."
+
+She was speaking out loud--fiercely. Suddenly she stopped. She raised
+her eyes to the window--to the little star by the Big Dipper. Gently,
+as a mother speaks, she said again:--
+
+"I made him--not you."
+
+Sally Winthrop sank into a chair. She began to cry--but softly now.
+
+"You're mine, Don," she whispered. "You're mine because I took care of
+you."
+
+A keen breeze from the mountains swept in upon her. She rose and stole
+across the hall to Mrs. Halliday's room. That good woman awoke with a
+start.
+
+"What is it?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry if I woke you," answered the girl. "But it's turned
+cold, and I wondered if Don--if Mr. Pendleton had enough bedclothes."
+
+"Laws sake," answered Mrs. Halliday. "I gave him two extra comforters,
+and if that ain't enough he deserves to freeze."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+SALLY DECIDES
+
+
+The clarion call of Mrs. Halliday's big red rooster announcing
+fervently his discovery of a thin streak of silver light in the east
+brought Don to his elbow with a start. For a moment he could not place
+himself, and then, as he realized where he was and what this day meant
+for him, he took a long deep breath.
+
+"In the morning," she had said.
+
+Technically it was now morning, though his watch informed him that it
+was not yet five. By now, then, she had made her decision. Somewhere
+in this old house, perhaps within sound of his voice, she was waiting
+with the verdict that was to decide whether he was going back to New
+York the happiest or the unhappiest man in all Christendom. No, that
+was not quite right either. Even if she said "No" that would not
+decide it. It would mean only another day of waiting, because he was
+going to keep right on trying to make her understand--day after day,
+all summer and next winter and the next summer if necessary. He was
+going to do that because, if he ever let go of this hope, then he
+would be letting go of everything.
+
+He found it quite impossible to sleep again and equally impossible to
+lie there awake. Jumping from bed he dressed, shaved, and went
+downstairs, giving Mrs. Halliday the start of her life when he came
+upon her as she was kindling the kitchen fire.
+
+"Land sakes alive," she gasped, "I didn't expect to see you for a
+couple hours."
+
+"I know it's early," he answered uncomfortably; "I don't suppose Sally
+is up?"
+
+Mrs. Halliday touched a match to the kindling and put the stove covers
+back in place.
+
+"There isn't anything lazy about Sally, but she generally does wait
+until the sun is up," she returned.
+
+She filled the teakettle and then, adjusting her glasses, took a more
+critical look at Don.
+
+"Wasn't ye warm enough last night?" she demanded.
+
+"Plenty, thank you," he answered.
+
+"Perhaps bein' in new surroundings bothered you," she suggested; "I
+can't ever sleep myself till I git used to a place."
+
+"I slept like a log," he assured her.
+
+"Is this the time ye ginerally git up in New York?"
+
+"Not quite as early as this," he admitted. "But, you see, that
+rooster--"
+
+"I see," she nodded. "And ye kind of hoped it might wake up Sally
+too?"
+
+"I took a chance," he smiled.
+
+"Well, now, as long as ye seem so anxious I'll tell ye something;
+maybe it did. Anyhow, I heard her movin' round afore I came down. Draw
+a chair up to the stove and make yourself comfortable."
+
+"Thanks."
+
+The dry heat from the burning wood was already warming the room.
+Outside he heard the morning songs of the birds. It no longer seemed
+early to him. It was as though the world were fully awake, just
+because he knew now that Sally was awake. For a few minutes Mrs.
+Halliday continued her tasks as though unmindful that he was about. It
+was such a sort of friendly acceptance of him as part of the
+household that he began to feel as much at home here as though it were
+his usual custom to appear at this hour. There was something more
+friendly about even Mrs. Halliday's back than about the faces of a
+great many people he knew. It looked as though it had borne a great
+many burdens, but having borne them sturdily was ready for more. It
+invited confidences. Then the teakettle began to bubble and sing and
+that invited confidences too. He was choking with things he wished to
+say--preferably to Sally herself, but if that were not possible, then
+Mrs. Halliday was certainly the next best confidante. Besides, being
+the closest relative of Sally's it was only fitting and proper that
+she should be told certain facts. Sooner or later she must know and
+now seemed a particularly opportune time. Don rose and moved his chair
+to attract her attention.
+
+"Mrs. Halliday--" he began.
+
+"Wal?" she replied, without turning. She was at that moment busy over
+the biscuit board.
+
+"There's something I think I ought to tell you."
+
+She turned instantly at that--turned, adjusted her spectacles, and
+waited.
+
+"I--I've asked Sally to marry me," he confessed.
+
+For a moment her thin, wrinkled face remained immobile. Then he saw a
+smile brighten the shrewd gray eyes.
+
+"You don't say!" she answered. "I've been wonderin' just how long ye'd
+be tellin' me that."
+
+"You knew? Sally told you?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Not in so many words, as ye might say," she answered. "But laws sake,
+when a girl wakes me up to say she doesn't think a young man has
+blankets enough on his bed in this kind of weather--"
+
+"She did that?" interrupted Don.
+
+"Thet's jest what she did. But long afore thet you told me yourself."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Of course. It's jest oozin' out all over you."
+
+She came nearer. For a second Don felt as though those gray eyes were
+boring into his soul.
+
+"Look here, young man," she said. "What did Sally say?"
+
+"She said she'd let me know this morning," he answered.
+
+"And you've been blamin' my old rooster for gettin' you up?"
+
+"Not blaming him exactly," he apologized.
+
+"And you aren't sure whether she's goin' to say yes or goin' to say
+no?"
+
+Don's lips tightened.
+
+"I'm not sure whether she's going to say yes or no this morning. But,
+believe me, Mrs. Halliday, before she dies she's going to say yes."
+
+Mrs. Halliday nodded approvingly. She went further; she placed a thin
+hand on Don's shoulder. It was like a benediction. His heart warmed as
+though it had been his mother's hand there.
+
+"Don," she said, as naturally as though she had been saying it all her
+life, "I don't know much about you in one way. But I like your face
+and I like your eyes. I go a lot by a man's eyes. More'n that, I know
+Sally, and there was never a finer, honester girl made than she is.
+If she has let you go as far as this, I don't think I'd worry myself
+to death."
+
+"That's the trouble," he answered. "She didn't let me go as far as
+this. I--I just went."
+
+Mrs. Halliday smiled again.
+
+"Mebbe you think so," she admitted.
+
+"You see--" he stammered.
+
+But at that moment he heard a rustle of skirts behind him. There stood
+Sally herself--her cheeks very red, with a bit of a frown above her
+eyes. It was Mrs. Halliday who saved the day.
+
+"Here, now, you two," she stormed as she went back to her biscuit
+board. "Both of you clear out of here until breakfast is ready. You
+belong outdoors where the birds are singing."
+
+"I'll set the table, Aunty," replied Sally grimly.
+
+"You'll do nothing of the kind," replied Mrs. Halliday.
+
+She crossed the room and, taking Sally by one arm she took Don by the
+other. She led them to the door.
+
+"Out with you," she commanded.
+
+Alone with her Don turned to seek Sally's eyes and saw the frown still
+there.
+
+"I--I told her," he admitted; "I couldn't help it. I've been up for an
+hour and I had to talk to some one."
+
+He took her arm.
+
+"You've decided?" he asked.
+
+His face was so tense, his voice so eager, that it was as much as she
+could do to remain vexed. Still, she resented the fact that he had
+spoken to her aunt without authority. It was a presumption that seemed
+to take for granted her answer. It was as though he thought only one
+answer possible.
+
+"Heart of me," he burst out, "you've decided?"
+
+"You--you had no right to tell her," she answered.
+
+"Come down the road a bit," he pleaded.
+
+He led her down the path and along the country road between fields wet
+with dew. The air was clean and sweet and the sky overhead a spotless
+blue. It was the freshest and cleanest world he had ever seen and she
+was one with it.
+
+"I only told her what she already knew," he said.
+
+"She knew?"
+
+He spoke in a lower voice--a voice gentle and trembling.
+
+"She said you came in last night after she had gone asleep--"
+
+Sally covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Oh," she gasped, "she--she told you that?"
+
+He reached up and gently removed her hands. He held them tight in both
+of his.
+
+"It was good of you to think of me like that. It was like you," he
+said.
+
+All the while he was drawing her nearer and nearer to him. She
+resisted. At least she thought she was resisting, but it didn't seem
+to make any difference. Nearer his eyes came to hers; nearer his lips
+came to hers. She gave a quick gasp as one before sudden danger. Then
+she felt his warm lips against hers and swayed slightly. But his arms
+were about her. They were strong about her, so that, while she felt as
+though hanging dizzily over a precipice, she at the same moment never
+felt safer in her life. With his lips against her lips, she closed
+her eyes until, to keep from losing herself completely, she broke
+free. Her cheeks scarlet, her breath coming short, her eyes like
+stars, she stared at him a moment, and then like a startled fawn
+turned and ran for the house. He followed, but her feet were tipped
+with wings. He did not catch her until she had burst into the kitchen,
+where in some fear Mrs. Halliday gathered her into her arms.
+
+"She hasn't answered me even yet," he explained to Mrs. Halliday.
+
+"Oh, Don," cried the trembling girl, her voice smothered in Mrs.
+Halliday's shoulder. "You dare say that after--"
+
+"Well, after what?" demanded Mrs. Halliday.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+BARTON APPEARS
+
+
+The details of the wedding Mrs. Halliday decided to take over into her
+own hands.
+
+"You two can just leave that to me," she informed them.
+
+"But look here," protested Don, "I don't see why we need bother with a
+lot of fuss and--"
+
+"What business is this of yours?" Mrs. Halliday challenged him.
+
+"Only we haven't much time," he warned.
+
+"There's going to be time enough for Sally to be married properly,"
+she decided.
+
+That was all there was to it. It seems that tucked away up in the
+attic there was an old trunk and tucked away in that a wedding dress
+of white silk which had been worn by Sally's mother.
+
+"It's been kept ag'in' this very day," explained Mrs. Halliday,
+"though I will say that I was beginnin' to git discouraged."
+
+The dress was brought out, and no more auspicious omen could have been
+furnished Mrs. Halliday than the fact that, except in several
+unimportant details, Sally could have put it on and worn it, just as
+it was. Not only did it fit, but the intervening years had brought
+back into style again the very mode in which it had been designed, so
+that, had she gone to a Fifth Avenue dressmaker, she could have found
+nothing more in fashion. Thus it was possible to set the wedding date
+just four days off, for Saturday. That was not one moment more of time
+than Mrs. Halliday needed in which to put the house in order--even
+with the hearty co�peration of Don, who insisted upon doing his part,
+which included the washing of all the upper windows.
+
+Those were wonderful days for him. For one thing he discovered that
+not only had there been given into his keeping the clear-seeing,
+steady-nerved, level-headed woman who had filled so large a share of
+his life this last year, but also another, who at first startled him
+like some wood nymph leaping into his path. She was so young, so
+vibrant with life, so quick with her smiles and laughter--this other.
+It was the girl in her, long suppressed, because in the life she had
+been leading in town there had been no playground. Her whole attention
+there had been given to the subjection of the wild impulses in which
+she now indulged. She laughed, she ran, she reveled in being just her
+care-free, girlish self. Don watched her with a new thrill. He felt as
+though she were taking him back to her early youth--as though she were
+filling up for him all those years of her he had missed.
+
+At night, about the usual time he was dining in town, Mrs. Halliday
+insisted that Sally should go to bed, as she herself did, which, of
+course, left Don no alternative but to go himself. There was no
+possible object in his remaining up after Sally was out of sight. But
+the early morning belonged to her and to him. At dawn he rose and when
+he came downstairs, he found her waiting for him. Though Mrs. Halliday
+protested that Sally was losing her beauty sleep she was not able to
+produce any evidence to prove it. If any one could look any fresher or
+more wonderful than Sally, as she stepped out of the house by his
+side into the light of the newborn day, then there was no sense in it,
+because, as she was then, she filled his eyes and his heart to
+overflowing. She wore no hat, but except for this detail he was never
+conscious of how she was dressed. There was always too much to occupy
+him in her brown eyes, in her mouth, which, while losing nothing of
+its firmness, had acquired a new gentleness. He had always thought of
+her lips as cold, but he knew them better now. At the bend in the road
+where he had kissed her first, he kissed her again every morning. She
+always protested. That was instinctive. But in the end she submitted,
+because it always seemed so many hours since she had seen him last,
+and because she made him understand that not until the next day could
+he expect this privilege.
+
+"What's the use of being engaged if I can't kiss you as often as I
+wish?" he demanded once.
+
+"We're engaged in order to be married," she explained.
+
+"And after we are married--"
+
+"You wait and see," she answered, her cheeks as red as any schoolgirl's.
+
+"But that's three days off," he complained.
+
+Even to her, happy as she was, confident as she was, the interval
+to Saturday sometimes seemed like a very long space of time. For
+one thing, she felt herself at night in the grip of a kind of
+foreboding absolutely foreign to her. Perhaps it was a natural
+reaction from the high tension of the day, but at night she sometimes
+found herself starting to her elbow in an agony of fear. Before the
+day came, something would happen to Don, because such happiness as
+this was not meant for her. She fell a victim to all manner of
+wild fears and extravagant fancies. On the second night there was a
+heavy thunderstorm. She did not mind such things ordinarily. The
+majesty of the darting light and the rolling crash of the thunder
+always thrilled her. But this evening the sky was blotted out
+utterly and quick light shot from every point of the compass at
+once. As peal followed peal, the house shook. Even then it was not of
+herself she thought. She had no fear except for Don. This might be
+the explanation of her foreboding. It happened, too, that his room
+was beneath the big chimney where if the house were hit the bolt
+would be most apt to strike. Dressing hastily in her wrapper and
+bedroom slippers, she stole into the hall. A particularly vicious
+flash illuminated the house for a second and then plunged it into
+darkness. She crept to Don's very door. There she crouched,
+resolved that the same bolt should kill them both. There she remained,
+scarcely daring to breathe until the shower passed.
+
+It was a silly thing to do. When she came back to her own room, her
+cheeks were burning with shame. The next morning she was miserable in
+fear lest he discover her weakness. He did not, though he marveled at
+a new tenderness in her that had been born in the night.
+
+The fourth day broke fair and Don found himself busy until noon
+helping with the decorations of green and of wild flowers; for though
+only a dozen or so neighbors had been asked, Mrs. Halliday was
+thorough in whatever she undertook. Had she been expecting a hundred
+she could have done no more in the way of preparation except perhaps
+to increase the quantity of cake and ices.
+
+Don himself had asked no one except old Barton, of Barton &
+Saltonstall, and him he did not expect, although he had received no
+reply to his invitation. What, then, was his surprise when toward the
+middle of the forenoon, as he was going into the house with an armful
+of pine boughs, he heard a voice behind him,--
+
+"How do, Don?"
+
+Turning, he saw Barton in a frock coat and a tall hat that he might
+have worn last at Pendleton, Senior's, wedding.
+
+"For Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Don, dropping his pine boughs on the
+doorstep and rushing to meet him. "I call this mighty good of you."
+
+"I could hardly do less for Pendleton's boy," answered Barton.
+
+"Well, sir, you're mighty welcome. Come right in. Oh, Sally," he
+called.
+
+Sally came on the run, not knowing what had happened. She wore a
+calico apron and had not found time to do her hair since morning. It
+was not exactly the costume she would have chosen in which first to
+meet Mr. Barton. Her cheeks showed it.
+
+"Sally," said Don, "this is Mr. Barton--my father's lawyer. Mr.
+Barton, this is Miss Winthrop."
+
+Barton bowed low with old-fashioned courtesy. Then he allowed his keen
+gray eyes to rest a moment upon hers.
+
+"I am very glad to meet you," he said.
+
+"Will you come in?" she asked. "I'm afraid the house is very much in
+disorder just now, but I want you to meet my aunt."
+
+Mrs. Halliday was scarcely more presentable than Miss Winthrop, but
+the latter found a certain relief in that fact.
+
+"I'm glad to know you," Mrs. Halliday greeted him cordially.
+
+But what to do with him at just this time was a problem which would
+have baffled her had he not solved it for himself.
+
+"Please don't let me interrupt the preparations," he begged. "I should
+not have ventured here--at just this time--except that I wanted to see
+Don about a few legal matters."
+
+"Mr. Barton," explained Don to Sally, "is the man who had the pleasant
+duty thrust upon him of telling me that I was cut off without a
+cent."
+
+"It was an unpleasant duty," nodded Barton, "but I hope it may be my
+good fortune to make up for that."
+
+"I'm afraid the only place you can sit is on the front doorstep,"
+laughed Sally.
+
+"As good a place as any," answered Don, leading the way.
+
+"Well," asked Don good-naturedly as soon as they were seated there,
+"what's the trouble now? I tell you right off it's got to be something
+mighty serious to jar me any at just this time."
+
+"There was still another codicil to your father's will," explained
+Barton at once--"a codicil I have not been at liberty to read to you
+until now. It had, in fact, no point except in the contingency of your
+marriage."
+
+"I hope you aren't going to take the house away from me," scowled
+Don.
+
+"No," answered Barton slowly. "It has to do rather with an additional
+provision. The substance of it is that in case you married any
+one--er--meeting with my approval, you were to be given an allowance
+of two thousand a year."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Two thousand a year. After that, one thousand a year additional for
+each child born of that marriage until the total allowance amounts to
+five thousand dollars. At that point the principal itself is to be
+turned over to you."
+
+"Oh, Sally!" called Don.
+
+She came running again. It was still four hours before they would be
+safely married and many things might happen in four hours.
+
+"Sit down here and listen to this," he commanded. "Now, do you mind
+saying that all over again?"
+
+Barton repeated his statement.
+
+"What do you think of that?" inquired Don. "It's just as though I had
+my salary raised two thousand a year. Not only that--but the rest is
+up to you."
+
+"Don!"
+
+"Well, it is."
+
+"And besides," she gasped, "Mr. Barton has not yet said he approves."
+
+Mr. Barton arose.
+
+"May I say that at once?" he smiled. "I do not think I have always
+given Don as much credit for his good judgment as I feel he should
+have been given."
+
+"Good old Barton!" choked Don.
+
+"There's one thing more," said Barton--"a--a little present for
+myself."
+
+He handed Don an envelope.
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Don, thrusting it unopened in his pocket. "And
+now it seems to me the least the bride can do is to let you kiss
+her."
+
+"I'm not a bride yet," answered Sally demurely, "but--"
+
+She came to Barton's side and he kissed her on the cheek.
+
+"It's too bad that Pendleton couldn't have lived to know his son's
+wife," he said.
+
+A little later Don gave Sally the envelope to open. It contained a
+check for five hundred dollars.
+
+"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Don, "we're rolling in wealth. I guess when
+we get back to town we'll have to buy a car."
+
+"When we get back to town we'll open a bank account," corrected
+Sally.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+A BULLY WORLD
+
+
+As Sally came down the stairs at a quarter of three in her white silk
+wedding gown the wonder was how, after a morning of such honest hard
+work as she had put in, it was possible for her to look so fresh. Many
+a town bride, after spending the entire morning resting in preparation
+for such an event, has at the last moment failed to turn up with such
+apple-red cheeks or brilliant eyes. There was a gently serious
+expression about her mouth, to be sure, but that was not due to
+fatigue. In spite of her light-heartedness during the last few days
+she had been all the while keenly conscious that she was accepting a
+great responsibility. She was about to marry not only a lover, but a
+man whose future was to be in her keeping. Among other things he was
+to be a future partner in the firm of Carter, Rand & Seagraves, and
+that meant several years of very hard work ahead of them. Then there
+were the secret responsibilities--the unborn responsibilities. These
+were not very definite, to be sure, but she felt them, timidly,
+gravely, in queer little tuggings at her heart.
+
+When finally she stood in front of the clergyman with Don by her side,
+she felt, not that she was in a bower of wild flowers, but before an
+altar. The ritual for her had a deeply religious significance. She
+made her responses in a steady voice heard by every one in the room.
+When she made the promise "to love, cherish, and obey," she spoke it
+as though she meant it. It did not disturb her in the slightest to
+utter the word "obey," because she knew well that whatever commands
+came to her from Don would be of her own inspiring. To her this
+promise was no more than an agreement to obey her own best impulses.
+
+The service seemed almost too brief for so solemn an undertaking, but
+when it was over, she reached for Don's hand and took it in a hearty
+grip that was more of a pledge than the ring itself. It sent a tingle
+to his heart and made his lips come together--the effect, a hundred
+times magnified, of the coach's slap upon the back that used to
+thrill him just before he trotted on the field before a big game. He
+felt that the harder the obstacles to be overcome for her dear sake,
+the better. He would like to have had a few at that moment as a relief
+to his pent-up emotions.
+
+He remembered in a sort of impatient daze the congratulations that
+followed--with the faces of Mrs. Halliday and Barton standing out a
+trifle more prominently--and then the luncheon. It seemed another week
+before she went upstairs to change into her traveling-dress; another
+week before she reappeared. Then came good-byes and the shower of
+rice, with an old shoe or so mixed in. He had sent her trunk the day
+before to the mountain hotel where they were to be for a week, but
+they walked to the station, he carrying her suitcase. Then he found
+himself on the train, and in another two hours they were at the hotel.
+It was like an impossible dream come true when finally they stood for
+the first time alone--she as his wife. He held out his arms to her and
+she came this time without protest.
+
+"Heart of mine," he whispered as he kissed her lips again and
+again,--"heart of mine, this is a bully old world."
+
+"You've made it that, Don."
+
+"I? I haven't had anything to do about it except to get you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+DON MAKES GOOD
+
+
+They had not one honeymoon, but two or three. When they left the hotel
+and came back to town, it was another honeymoon to enter together the
+house in which she had played so important a part without ever having
+seen it. When they stepped out of the cab she insisted upon first
+seeing it from the outside, instead of rushing up the steps as he was
+for doing.
+
+"Don," she protested, "I--I don't want to have such a pleasure over
+with all at once. I want to get it bit by bit."
+
+There was not much to see, to be sure, but a door and a few windows--a
+section similar to sections to the right and left of which it was a
+part. But it was a whole house, a house with lower stories and upper
+stories and a roof--all his, all hers. To her there was something
+still unreal about it.
+
+He humored her delay, though Nora was standing impatiently at the
+door, anxious to see the Pendleton bride. But when she finally did
+enter, Nora, at the smile she received, had whatever fears might have
+been hers instantly allayed.
+
+"Gawd bless ye," she beamed.
+
+Sally refused to remove her wraps until she had made her inspection
+room by room, sitting down in each until she had grasped every detail.
+So they went from the first floor to the top floor and came back to
+the room which he had set apart for their room.
+
+"Does it suit you, wife of mine?" he asked.
+
+With the joy of it all, her eyes filled.
+
+"It's even more beautiful than I thought it would be," she trembled.
+
+For him the house had changed the moment she stepped into it. With
+his father alive, it had been his father's home rather than his;
+with his father gone, it had been scarcely more than a convenient
+resting-place. There had been moments--when he thought of Frances
+here--that it had taken on more significance, but even this had
+been due to Sally. When he thought he was making the house ready
+for another, it had been her dear hand who had guided him. How
+vividly now he recalled that dinner at the little French restaurant
+when he had described his home to her--the home which was now her
+home too. It was at that moment she had first made her personality
+felt here.
+
+Sally removed her hat and tidied her hair before the mirror in quite
+as matter-of-fact a fashion as though she had been living here ever
+since that day instead of only the matter of a few minutes. When she
+came downstairs, Nora herself seemed to accept her on that basis. To
+her suggestions, she replied, "Yes, Mrs. Pendleton," as glibly as
+though she had been saying it all her life.
+
+They returned on a Saturday. On Monday Don was to go back to the
+office. Sally had sent in her resignation the day of her marriage and
+had received nice letters from both Carter and Farnsworth, with a
+check enclosed from the former for fifty dollars and from the latter
+for twenty-five dollars.
+
+"What I'll have to do," said Don, as he retired Sunday night, "is to
+get a larger alarm-clock. It won't do to be late any more."
+
+"You're right," agreed Sally. "But you won't need an alarm-clock."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"You wait and see."
+
+Sally was awake at six the next morning and Don himself less than one
+minute after.
+
+"Time to get up," she called.
+
+"I'm sleepy," murmured Don.
+
+"Then to-morrow night you'll get to bed one hour earlier. But--up with
+you."
+
+"Right-o," he answered as he sprang from bed. "But there's no need of
+your getting up."
+
+"I'd be ashamed of myself if I didn't."
+
+She had breakfast with him that first work morning as she planned to
+do every morning of her life after that.
+
+"Now, Don," she warned as he was ready to leave, "mind you don't say
+anything about a raise in salary for a little while yet. I know
+Farnsworth, and he'll give it to you the moment he feels you've made
+good. Besides, we can afford to wait and--I don't know as I want you
+to have any more money than you have now. It's ridiculous for you to
+have that two thousand from your father."
+
+"I guess we can use it, little woman," he laughed.
+
+"We can save it," she insisted. "And, of course, it's pretty nice to
+have an emergency fund, only it sort of takes half the fun out of life
+to be so safe."
+
+"It takes half the worry with it, too," he reminded her.
+
+She thought a moment. Then she kissed him.
+
+"Maybe it's good for people to worry a bit," she answered.
+
+"You've already done your share," he returned. "You're going to meet
+me for lunch at twelve?"
+
+"Yes, Don."
+
+"Sure?"
+
+"Of course, it's sure."
+
+"I wish it were twelve now."
+
+"You're not to think of me again until twelve comes--not once. You're
+to tend to business."
+
+"I know, but--"
+
+She kissed him again.
+
+"Along with you."
+
+She took his arm and led him to the door and there--where, for all he
+cared, the whole street might have seen him--he turned quickly and
+kissed her once more.
+
+Don was decidedly self-conscious when he stepped briskly into the
+office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves, with a brave attempt to give the
+impression that nothing whatever out of the ordinary had happened to
+him during his brief vacation. But Blake, as he expressed it to her
+later, was there with bells on. He spied him the moment he came
+through the door and greeted him with a whistled bar from the "Wedding
+March." Not content with that, he tore several sheets of office
+stationery into small bits and sprinkled him with it. He seemed to
+take it as more or less of a joke.
+
+"You certainly put one over on us," exclaimed Blake.
+
+"Well, let it go at that," Don frowned.
+
+He was willing to take the horse-play, but there was something in the
+spirit with which it was done that he did not like.
+
+"Always heard bridegrooms were a bit touchy," returned Blake.
+
+Don stepped nearer.
+
+"Touchy isn't the word, Blake," he said; "proud comes nearer it.
+Remember that I'm proud as the devil of the girl you used to see here.
+Just base your future attitude toward her and me on that."
+
+A few minutes later Farnsworth restored his good humor. As he came
+into the private office, Farnsworth rose and extended his hand.
+
+"I want to congratulate you, Pendleton," he said sincerely.
+
+"Thank you," answered Don.
+
+"We feel almost as though we had lost a partner in the firm," he
+smiled. "But I'm mighty glad for both of you. She was fitted for
+something a whole lot bigger than Wall Street."
+
+"She taught me all I know about the game," confessed Don.
+
+"You couldn't have had a better teacher. Sit down. I want to talk over
+a change I have in mind."
+
+Don felt his heart leap to his throat.
+
+"I've wanted for some time another man to go out and sell," said
+Farnsworth. "Do you think you can handle it?"
+
+"You bet," exclaimed Don.
+
+Farnsworth smiled.
+
+"You see," ran on Don in explanation, "I've been selling bonds to
+Sally--er--Mrs. Pendleton, for a month or more now."
+
+"Selling her?"
+
+"Imaginary bonds, you know."
+
+Farnsworth threw back his head and laughed.
+
+"Good! Good! But the true test will come when you try to sell her a
+real one. I'll bet it will have to be gilt-edged."
+
+"And cheap," nodded Don.
+
+"Well," said Farnsworth, "I want to try you on the selling staff for a
+while, anyway. Now, about salary--"
+
+"Sally told me to forget that," said Don.
+
+"I guess because she knew me well enough to know I wouldn't forget it.
+My intention is to pay men in this office what they are worth. Just
+what you may be worth in your new position I don't know, but I'm going
+to advance you five hundred; and if you make good you'll be paid in
+proportion as you make good. That satisfactory?"
+
+"Absolutely."
+
+"Then we're off," concluded Farnsworth.
+
+Don met Sally at noon at the dairy lunch where they had gone so
+often.
+
+"Come on, little woman," he greeted her. "This place may be all right
+for the wife of a clerk, but now you're the wife of a bond salesman."
+
+"Don!"
+
+"On a five-hundred-dollar raise."
+
+"We'll stay right here," she said; "but I'm going to celebrate by
+having two chocolate �clairs."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+"HOME, JOHN"
+
+
+In December of the following year Frances came into her mother's room
+one afternoon, drawing on her gloves.
+
+"Your new gown is very pretty," her mother said. "Where are you
+calling?"
+
+"I have bridge at the Warrens' at four," she answered. "But I thought
+I might have time before that to drop in at Don's. He has telephoned
+me half a dozen times to call and see his baby, and I suppose he'll
+keep on until I go."
+
+"You really ought to go."
+
+Frances became petulant. "Oh, I know it, but--after all, a baby
+_isn't_ interesting."
+
+"They say it's a pretty baby. It's a boy, isn't it?"
+
+"I don't know. Why don't you come along with me?"
+
+"I'm not dressed, dear, but please to extend my congratulations."
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+As John started to close the door of the limousine, Frances glanced at
+her watch.
+
+"I wish to call at Mr. Pendleton's, but I must be at the Warrens' at
+four promptly. How much time must I allow?"
+
+"A half hour, Miss."
+
+"Very well, John."
+
+Nora took her card, and came back with the request that she follow
+upstairs. "The baby's just waked up," Nora said.
+
+Frances was disappointed. If she had to see a baby, she preferred, on
+the whole, seeing it asleep.
+
+Mrs. Pendleton came to the nursery door with the baby in her arms--or
+rather a bundle presumably containing a baby.
+
+"It's good of you to come," she smiled. "I think he must have waked up
+just to see you."
+
+She spoke unaffectedly and with no trace of embarrassment, although
+when Nora presented the card she had for a second become confused. She
+had hoped that Don would be at home when this moment came.
+
+"You're sure it's convenient for me to stay?" questioned Frances
+uneasily.
+
+"Quite," answered Mrs. Pendleton. "I--I want you to see him when he's
+good-natured."
+
+She crossed the room to the window, and removed a layer of swaddling
+clothes very gently. And there, revealed, lay Don, Jr. His face was
+still rather red, and his nose pudgy; but when he opened his eyes
+Frances saw Don's eyes. It gave her a start.
+
+"He has his father's eyes," said the mother.
+
+"There's no doubt of that," exclaimed Frances.
+
+"And his nose--well, he hasn't much of any nose yet," she smiled.
+
+"He seems very small--all over."
+
+"He weighed ten pounds this morning," said the mother.
+
+Don, Jr., was waving his arms about, rather feebly, but with
+determination.
+
+"He is very strong," the mother informed her. "Don declares that he
+has all the earmarks of a football player."
+
+It seemed odd to hear this other speak so familiarly of Don. Frances
+glanced up quickly--and met Mrs. Pendleton's eyes. It was as if the
+two challenged each other. But Frances was the first to turn away.
+
+"Would you like to hold him a minute?" asked Mrs. Pendleton.
+
+Frances felt her breath coming fast.
+
+"I'm afraid I'd be clumsy."
+
+"Hold out your arms and I'll put him in them."
+
+Frances held out her arms, and Mrs. Pendleton gently laid the baby
+across them.
+
+"Now hold him up to you," she said.
+
+Frances obeyed. The sweet, subtle aroma of his hair reached her. The
+subtle warmth of his body met hers. As the mystic eyes opened below
+her eyes, a crooning lullaby hidden somewhere within her found its way
+to her throat and there stuck. She grew dizzy and her throat ached.
+Don, Jr., moved uneasily.
+
+"He wants to come back now," said the mother as she took him.
+
+"Good-bye," whispered Frances. "I may come again?"
+
+"Come often," smiled Mrs. Pendleton.
+
+Frances tiptoed from the room, and tiptoed all the way downstairs and
+through the hall.
+
+As she stepped into the limousine, she said to John: "Home, please."
+
+"But you said you must be at the Warrens' at four," John respectfully
+reminded her.
+
+She sank back wearily in the seat.
+
+"Home, John, please," she repeated.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
+
+THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
+
+A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of frontier
+warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is captured by
+bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close.
+
+THE RAINBOW TRAIL
+
+The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great western
+uplands--until at last love and faith awake.
+
+DESERT GOLD
+
+The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with
+the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who
+is the story's heroine.
+
+RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
+
+A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon
+authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the
+story.
+
+THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN
+
+This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones,
+known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert
+and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant
+pines."
+
+THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT
+
+A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young
+New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall
+become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem of
+this great story.
+
+THE SHORT STOP
+
+The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and
+fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are
+followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty ought
+to win.
+
+BETTY ZANE
+
+This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful young
+sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.
+
+THE LONE STAR RANGER
+
+After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along
+the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a
+young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down
+upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on one side
+by honest men, on the other by outlaws.
+
+THE BORDER LEGION
+
+Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless Western
+mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved him--she
+followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band, and
+trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him to health
+again. Here enters another romance--when Joan, disguised as an outlaw,
+observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, a thrilling
+robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly.
+
+THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS,
+
+By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey
+
+The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by his
+sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his first
+encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider, then near
+Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the most
+dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting account of
+the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public life makes a
+stronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo Bill" whose
+daring and bravery made him famous.
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
+
+This book has a fairy-story touch, counterbalanced by the sturdy reality
+of struggle, sacrifice, and resulting peace and power of a mother's
+experiences.
+
+SATURDAY'S CHILD.
+
+Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes.
+
+Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, makes a quest
+for happiness. She passes through three stages--poverty, wealth and
+service--and works out a creditable salvation.
+
+THE RICH MRS. BURGOYNE.
+
+Illustrated by Lucius H. Hitchcock.
+
+The story of a sensible woman who keeps within her means, refuses to be
+swamped by social engagements, lives a normal human life of varied
+interests, and has her own romance.
+
+THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE.
+
+Frontispiece by Allan Gilbert.
+
+How Julia Page, reared in rather unpromising surroundings, lifted herself
+through sheer determination to a higher plane of life.
+
+THE HEART OF RACHAEL.
+
+Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers.
+
+Rachael is called upon to solve many problems, and in working out these,
+there is shown the beauty and strength of soul of one of fiction's most
+appealing characters.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+THE NOVELS OF MARY ROBERTS RINEHART
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+"K." Illustrated.
+
+K. LeMoyne, famous surgeon, drops out of the world that has known him, and
+goes to live in a little town where beautiful Sidney Page lives. She is in
+training to become a nurse. The joys and troubles of their young love are
+told with that keen and sympathetic appreciation which has made the author
+famous.
+
+THE MAN IN LOWER TEN.
+
+Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy.
+
+An absorbing detective story woven around the mysterious death of the "Man
+in Lower Ten." The strongest elements of Mrs. Rinehart's success are found
+in this book.
+
+WHEN A MAN MARRIES.
+
+Illustrated by Harrison Fisher and Mayo Bunker.
+
+A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him, finds that his aunt
+is soon to visit him. The aunt, who contributes to the family income and
+who has never seen the wife, knows nothing of the domestic upheaval. How
+the young man met the situation is humorously and most entertainingly
+told.
+
+THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE. Illus. by Lester Ralph.
+
+The summer occupants of "Sunnyside" find the dead body of Arnold
+Armstrong, the son of the owner, on the circular staircase. Following the
+murder a bank failure is announced. Around these two events is woven a
+plot of absorbing interest.
+
+THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS.
+
+Illustrated (Photo Play Edition.)
+
+Harmony Wells, studying in Vienna to be a great violinist, suddenly
+realizes that her money is almost gone. She meets a young ambitious doctor
+who offers her chivalry and sympathy, and together with world-worn Dr.
+Anna and Jimmie, the waif, they share their love and slender means.
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+MICHAEL O'HALLORAN, Illustrated by Frances Rogers.
+
+Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern
+Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes the
+responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and onward.
+
+LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.
+
+This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story
+is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it is
+concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs of
+older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and the
+Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood and
+about whose family there hangs a mystery.
+
+THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs.
+
+"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had
+nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. But
+when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance of the
+rarest idyllic quality.
+
+FRECKLES. Illustrated.
+
+Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he
+takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great
+Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to
+the charm of his engaging personality; and his love story with "The Angel"
+are full of real sentiment.
+
+A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated.
+
+The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type of the
+self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness towards
+all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of her soul,
+and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and unpromising
+surroundings those rewards of high courage.
+
+AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors.
+
+The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The
+story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. The
+novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its
+pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all.
+
+THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated.
+
+A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and
+humor.
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+LAVENDER AND OLD LACE.
+
+A charming story of a quaint corner of New England, where bygone romance
+finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to the
+young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the prettiest,
+sweetest and quaintest of old-fashioned love stories.
+
+MASTER OF THE VINEYARD.
+
+A pathetic love story of a young girl, Rosemary. The teacher of the
+country school, who is also master of the vineyard, comes to know her
+through her desire for books. She is happy in his love till another woman
+comes into his life. But happiness and emancipation from her many trials
+come to Rosemary at last. The book has a touch of humor and pathos that
+will appeal to every reader.
+
+OLD ROSE AND SILVER.
+
+A love story,--sentimental and humorous,--with the plot subordinate to the
+character delineation of its quaint people and to the exquisite
+descriptions of picturesque spots and of lovely, old, rare treasures.
+
+A WEAVER OF DREAMS.
+
+This story tells of the love affairs of three young people, with an
+old-fashioned romance in the background. A tiny dog plays an important
+role in serving as a foil for the heroine's talking ingeniousness. There
+is poetry, as well as tenderness and charm, in this tale of a weaver of
+dreams.
+
+A SPINNER IN THE SUN.
+
+An old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude and
+whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a mystery at the
+heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance.
+
+THE MASTER'S VIOLIN.
+
+A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuoso
+consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an
+aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth cannot
+express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life as can the master.
+But a girl comes into his life, and through his passionate love for her,
+he learns the lessons that life has to give--and his soul awakes.
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.
+
+No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young
+people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the
+time when the reader was Seventeen.
+
+PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant.
+
+This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, tragic
+things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a finished,
+exquisite work.
+
+PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm.
+
+Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases
+of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness that
+have ever been written.
+
+THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.
+
+Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
+father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
+fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success.
+
+THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece.
+
+A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country
+editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
+interest.
+
+THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
+
+The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement,
+drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another to
+lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising suitor,
+leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.
+
+Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+SEWELL FORD'S STORIES
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+SHORTY McCABE. Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker, sees
+life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way.
+
+SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY.
+
+Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles. Sympathy with human
+nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites for
+"side-stepping with Shorty."
+
+SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB.
+
+Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to
+the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund," and
+gives joy to all concerned.
+
+SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS.
+
+Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for physical
+culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at swell
+yachting parties.
+
+TORCHY. Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg.
+
+A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to the
+youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his
+experiences.
+
+TRYING OUT TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
+
+Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the
+previous book.
+
+ON WITH TORCHY. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
+
+Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," but
+that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people apart,
+which brings about many hilariously funny situations.
+
+TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC. Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
+
+Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for the
+Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious
+American slang.
+
+WILT THOU TORCHY. Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown.
+
+Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast, in
+company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his
+friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place an
+engagement ring on Vee's finger.
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+JACK LONDON'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn.
+
+This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing experiences.
+This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted with alcohol from
+boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. It is a string of
+exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an unforgettable idea and
+makes a typical Jack London book.
+
+THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper.
+
+The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and
+ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and
+marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the
+Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation.
+
+BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations.
+
+The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations of
+his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes to the
+States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and recovers it
+only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a merciless exploiter
+on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking and becomes a picture of
+degeneration. About this time he falls in love with his stenographer and
+wins her heart but not her hand and then--but read the story!
+
+A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. W. Ashley.
+
+David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from England
+to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native and as
+lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life appealed to
+him and he remained and became very wealthy.
+
+THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles
+Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper.
+
+A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be. Here
+is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to transport
+the reader to primitive scenes.
+
+THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward.
+
+Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into the
+power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of adventure
+warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will hail with
+delight.
+
+WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull.
+
+"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen
+north; he gradually comes under the spell of man's companionship, and
+surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he is
+man's loving slave.
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Wall Street Girl, by Frederick Orin Bartlett
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WALL STREET GIRL ***
+
+***** This file should be named 29654-8.txt or 29654-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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