o say just that.

"N--nothing," he stammered, looking about for a means of quick escape.
"I--I was just talking," he finished. And he was immeasurably relieved
to find that Mr. Holly did not press the matter further.

CHAPTER XIX

THE UNBEAUTIFUL WORLD

In spite of the exaltation of renunciation, and in spite of the joy of
being newly and especially "wanted," those early September days were
sometimes hard for David. Not until he had relinquished all hope of his
"start" did he fully realize what that hope had meant to him.

There were times, to be sure, when there was nothing but rejoicing
within him that he was able thus to aid the Hollys. There were other
times when there was nothing but the sore heartache because of the
great work out in the beautiful world that could now never be done; and
because of the unlovely work at hand that must be done. To tell the
truth, indeed, David's entire conception of life had become suddenly a
chaos of puzzling contradictions.

To Mr. Jack, one day, David went with his perplexities. Not that he
told him of the gold-pieces and of the unexpected use to which they had
been put--indeed, no. David had made up his mind never, if he could
help himself, to mention those gold-pieces to any one who did not
already know of them. They meant questions, and the questions,
explanations. And he had had enough of both on that particular subject.
But to Mr. Jack he said one day, when they were alone together:--

"Mr. Jack, how many folks have you got inside of your head?"

"Eh--what, David?"

David repeated his question and attached an explanation.

"I mean, the folks that--that make you do things."

Mr. Jack laughed.

"Well," he said, "I believe some people make claims to quite a number,
and perhaps almost every one owns to a Dr. Jekyll and a Mr. Hyde."

"Who are they?"

"Never mind, David. I don't think you know the gentlemen, anyhow.
They're only something like the little girl with a curl. One is very,
very good, indeed, and the other is horrid."

"Oh, yes, I know them; they're the ones that come to me," returned
David, with a sigh. "I've had them a lot, lately."

Mr. Jack stared.

"Oh, have you?"

"Yes; and that's what's the trouble. How can you drive them off--the
one that is bad, I mean?"

"Well, really," confessed Mr. Jack, "I'm not sure I can tell. You
see--the gentlemen visit me sometimes."

"Oh, do they?"

"Yes."

"I'm so glad--that is, I mean," amended David