he weakness and despondence when Fuller arrived and
soon afterwards came to see him. Dick, who was sitting in the darkest
corner of the veranda, had got rid of his bandage; but an ugly, livid
mark crossed his forehead to the shade above his eyes and his face looked
worn. Fuller talked about the dam for a time, and then stopped and looked
hard at his silent companion.

"I imagined all this would interest you, but you don't say much."

"No," said Dick. "You see, it's galling to listen to plans you can't take
part in. In fact, I feel I ought to resign."

"Why?"

"It looks as if it may be a long time before I can get to work and I may
never be of much use again."

"Well, I suppose it's natural that you should feel badly humped, but you
don't know that you'll lose your eye, and if you did, you'd do your work
all right with the other. However, since you started the subject, I've
something to say about our contract. If the new scheme we're negotiating
goes through, as I think it will, I'll have to increase my staff. Should
I do so, you'll get a move up and, of course, better pay for a more
important job."

Dick, who was touched by this mark of confidence, thanked him awkwardly,
and although he felt bound to object that he might be unable to fill the
new post, Fuller stopped him.

"All you have to do is to lie off and take it easy until you get well. I
know a useful man when I see him and it won't pay me to let you go. When
I've fixed things with the President I'll make you an offer. Now
Stuyvesant's waiting for me and I understand my daughter is coming to see
you."

He went away and soon afterwards Ida Fuller came in. Dick rather
awkwardly got her a chair, for his shade, which was closely pulled down,
embarrassed him, but she noticed this, and his clumsiness made a strong
appeal. She liked Dick and had some ground for being grateful to him. For
half an hour she talked in a cheerful strain and Dick did his best to
respond, but she saw what the effort cost and went away in a thoughtful
mood.

Ida Fuller had both sympathy and self-confidence, and when things went
wrong with her friends seldom felt diffident about trying to put them
right. In consequence, she took Jake away from the others, whom her
father had asked to dinner that evening.

"What's the matter with Dick Brandon?" she asked.

"It's pretty obvious. His trouble began with broken ribs and may end with
the loss of his eye; but if you want a list of his sym