ment
than he deserved. He was still embarrassed by the thought, when he went
downstairs and found Will and his mother at the table.

"I've told mother all about you," announced Bill. "You have her official
seal of approval."

"Don't mind what he says," interrupted Mrs. Spencer. "A boy who wants to
do right always has a place with me. But you get a reserved seat because
you're going to help Willie."

"I hope I'll be able to. I'll surely try."

"Oh, you're just the strong young fellow he needs. He's had the plan
quite a while but so many people--"

"Not so very many, mother," interrupted Will. "Very few people know of
it."

"Well, the people that you've told--you know how they have all acted or
spoken as if it were a wild goose chase--"

"They think so; that's their privilege."

"No it isn't. They shouldn't think so. You've studied it out and you
know it's as bright a thought as ever helped any man to a fortune and
I'm glad this big boy is going to help you work it."

"And then I'll be rich enough to buy you a home, and to go to that big
hospital and get my old pegs fixed up so they can put artificial legs on
me that I really can walk on."

"I'm mighty glad to help," said Glen. "I'd do most anything for folks as
good as you."

"There, mother; that's an unsolicited testimonial to your particular
brand of goodness," said Will. "He didn't talk a bit that way when he
met me first. Acted quite abrupt and seemed to want to get away."

"I didn't know you then," objected Glen. "I was trying to get away from
everybody."

"Pretty good horse-power you were putting into it, too," observed Will.
"That reminds me, boy. It is now time for you to unroll the full history
of your eventful career."

"There isn't very much that matters, until a few days ago," began Glen.

"What's that?" asked Mrs. Spencer. "Did you say not much that matters?
How old are you?"

"I was fifteen last May."

"Fifteen years ago last May! Don't you know, Glen, that something
happened then that mattered a wonderful lot to one person, even if it
didn't then matter much to you. And it's been mattering ever since, to
her."

"Yes," agreed Glen, "my mother, you mean."

"Yes, I mean your mother. And your father, too, as long as he lived.
Don't you suppose it mattered to them that their boy should be so--" she
hesitated, groping for a word.

"Pigheaded!" volunteered Glen.

Mrs. Spencer looked shocked, and remonstrated: "Why, Glen! I didn't say