deeply
worried she had grown about Roger, no one guessed, least of all the boy
himself. There was no escaping the knowledge that she was in a sense
responsible for him; the terms of their father's will had made her
trustee of her brother's half until he should reach the age of thirty.
Of course, she ought to do something, she had often told herself,
something radical and decisive; but she was too indolent, too definitely
in a groove, too bored with herself and her surroundings, to take that
keen interest essential to decisive action. So, with another sigh, she
passed through the long window opening on the piazza, and thence to the
lawn beyond.

Roger awoke just a minute too late to the fact that they had been alone
together and that he had missed the opportunity he had been waiting for.
He always preferred to approach Judith on money matters casually, and
not as though the occasion were of his own seeking. It certainly was
absurd for a man of his years and income to be kept in leading-strings
by his own sister. However, there was no help for it, and Judith had
always been a good sort, he would say that for her. He needed a cheque,
and he might as well get it over with at once.

He found her in the garden, examining some flowers which had just been
set out. Flowers were her one hobby, and he knew that a resort to them
usually indicated a certain degree of boredom with those around her.
But he went straight to the point.

"Say, sis, I'm running into town presently. Can you come in and draw me
a cheque? Better make it five hundred this time, to keep me going a
while."

"You lost again last night, Roger?"

"Lost?" He laughed mirthlessly. "Lord! Yes, I lost all right. The family
resources can stand it, can't they?"

"How much?"

"Oh, don't ask me to figure now. My head's like a ship in a storm this
morning. I don't know--lots."

"How much, Roger?"

"Oh, come on, sis, I'm in a hurry. Draw the cheque like a good
girl ... let's talk about it to-morrow." Suddenly he caught the
expression on his sister's face. It was an expression he seldom saw;
one that he did not like. "Well, if you have got to have the horrible
truth," he snapped petulantly, "I'm cleaned out ... absolute bust ... I
still owe a few hundred to Faxon," he added reluctantly.

She sighed. "Again."

"Nothing's broken right for me. Absolutely nothing. You saw yourself the
way the cards treated me last night."

Her eyes flashed. "You've got to be fair