d solemnly for a space.

"You no 'fraid?" she asked warningly.

"No, no," he laughed, "I'm not afraid. Go ahead."

"Most verra big," she warned again.

"All right. Fire away."

"Well, den--" She drew a big breath like a child, as she voiced to the
uttermost all she cared to demand of life. "I lika da have one milka
ranch--good milka ranch. Plenty cow, plenty land, plenty grass. I lika
da have near San Le-an; my sister liva dere. I sella da milk in Oakland.
I maka da plentee mon. Joe an' Nick no runna da cow. Dey go-a to
school. Bimeby maka da good engineer, worka da railroad. Yes, I lika da
milka ranch."

She paused and regarded Martin with twinkling eyes.

"You shall have it," he answered promptly.

She nodded her head and touched her lips courteously to the wine-glass
and to the giver of the gift she knew would never be given. His heart
was right, and in her own heart she appreciated his intention as much as
if the gift had gone with it.

"No, Maria," he went on; "Nick and Joe won't have to peddle milk, and all
the kids can go to school and wear shoes the whole year round. It will
be a first-class milk ranch--everything complete. There will be a house
to live in and a stable for the horses, and cow-barns, of course. There
will be chickens, pigs, vegetables, fruit trees, and everything like
that; and there will be enough cows to pay for a hired man or two. Then
you won't have anything to do but take care of the children. For that
matter, if you find a good man, you can marry and take it easy while he
runs the ranch."

And from such largess, dispensed from his future, Martin turned and took
his one good suit of clothes to the pawnshop. His plight was desperate
for him to do this, for it cut him off from Ruth. He had no second-best
suit that was presentable, and though he could go to the butcher and the
baker, and even on occasion to his sister's, it was beyond all daring to
dream of entering the Morse home so disreputably apparelled.

He toiled on, miserable and well-nigh hopeless. It began to appear to
him that the second battle was lost and that he would have to go to work.
In doing this he would satisfy everybody--the grocer, his sister, Ruth,
and even Maria, to whom he owed a month's room rent. He was two months
behind with his type-writer, and the agency was clamoring for payment or
for the return of the machine. In desperation, all but ready to
surrender, to make a truce with fat