the matter a subject of
prayerful consideration.

"Meantime there is another matter on hand," said Mr. Stephens, turning
promptly, as was his custom, from one item of business to another.
"Information derived from Hoyt demands either your or my immediate
presence in their establishment. You understand the state of their
affairs, do you not?"

"Perfectly. Am I to attend to that business?"

"Well, it would be a great relief to me if you could. I hate the cars."

"Very well, sir; I can go of course. What time shall I start?"

"What time _can_ you start?"

Theodore glanced at his watch.

"The Express goes up in forty minutes. Shall I take that train?"

Mr. Stephens smiled, and made what sounded like an irrelevant reply:

"Your executive ability is perfectly refreshing, Theodore, to a man of
my gray hairs and crushing weight of business."

Theodore seemed to consider the reply sufficiently explicit, and in
forty minutes afterward, valise in hand, swung himself on the Express
train just as it was leaving the depot. Mr. Stephens' last remark to him
had been, "Remember, my boy, to think of that matter carefully, and be
prepared to give me a favorable answer; my heart is set on it." And
Theodore had laughed and responded, "If I have an inspiration during my
absence I may conclude to gratify you."

* * * * *

This all happened on an October day. The rest of the winter that was in
progress during that last chapter, and the long, bright summer, had
rolled away, and now another winter was almost ready to begin its work.
The summer had been a quiet one aside from business cares and
excitements. Pliny still retained his boarding place in the quiet asylum
that had opened to him when his own home had proved so dangerous a
place. Dora Hastings had spent the most of the summer with her parents,
traveling East and North, but Pliny had remained bravely at his post
struggling still with his enemy, but still persisting in carrying on the
warfare alone. This one matter was a sharp trial to Theodore's faith;
indeed he felt himself growing almost impatient.

"Why _must_ it be that _he_ should halt and hesitate so long!" he
exclaimed in a nervous and almost a petulant tone, as he paced up and
down the back parlor one evening, after having had a talk with the
little mother. "I am sure if ever I had faith for any one in the world I
had for him."

"Have you got it now?" she asked him, gently. "It appe