ne utterly
remote from Lorimer.

"I have heard from the mother, to-day," he said suddenly.

"Good news, I hope." Thayer's tone was as hearty as if he had felt no
passing annoyance at the boy's stubborn reticence.

"The best that can be for them. An old cousin has died, and they are his
heirs."

"Good! Is it much?"

"Enough so they can live in comfort, whatever happens to me."

"And enough so that you can live in comfort, without anxiety for them,"
Thayer supplemented kindly.

"Without anxiety; I can do without the comfort," Arlt replied. "I have
worried sometimes."

Crossing the room, Thayer laid his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"And you have borne the worry very pluckily, too, Arlt. It has been hard
for you, this first year in America, with the double care for them and
for yourself. I hope things are going to be easier now."

"It will be a help in my work," he assented. Then he added, with a
sudden effort which showed how dear the subject was to his heart, "I
think I shall now have a few more lessons in counterpoint."

"More?" Thayer said interrogatively.

"Yes; I had already studied for two years."

"And you want to compose?"

"When I know enough. Not till then."

"It takes something besides the knowing, to make a composer, Arlt,"
Thayer said warningly.

"I know. But I think I have something to say, when I am ready," the boy
answered, with simple directness.

"But, if you wanted to study counterpoint, why didn't you say so? You
knew I would lend you the money."

"Yes, you would give me everything; but I could never accept this."

"Why not?"

Arlt looked up, and even Thayer, well as he knew him, was surprised at
the sudden concentration of character in the boy's face.

"One will be helped in the small things, never in accomplishing the real
purpose of his life. Each one of us must work that out for himself.
Then, if he succeeds or fails, at least the result is of his own
making."

Dismissing four or five importunate cab drivers with a brief shake of
his head, Thayer went striding away up the Avenue towards Miss Gannion's
house. As he went, he was half-consciously applying Arlt's words to the
question of his own future. It was true enough that he must work out his
own real purpose for himself; and, in one sense the unsuccessful boy was
happier by far than the successful man. Arlt's purpose was single.
Thayer's was two-fold, and as yet he could not determine which of them
would prove to be t