the
balance. And then--then, Brian, you will give dear Auntie Sue a cheque
for what you owe her, with interest of course. And we will all be so
happy! And--and--don't you think I am a very good managing owner? You
do, don't you?"

When he hesitated, she added: "And the final and biggest reason of all
is, that I want you to do as I have planned more than I ever wanted
anything in the world, except you, and I want this so because I want
you. You can't really refuse, now, can you?"

How, indeed, could he refuse?

So they worked it out together as Betty Jo had planned; and when the
time came for the last and best part of the plan, and Brian confessed to
Auntie Sue how he had robbed her, and had known for so long that she was
aware of his crime against her, and finished his confession by giving
her the cheque, it is safe to say that there was nowhere in all the
world more happiness than in the little log house by the river.

"God-A'mighty sure helped me to do one good turn, anyway, when I jumped
inter the river after that there book when Mr. Burns done throw'd hit
away," commented the delighted Judy.

And while they laughed together, Betty Jo hugged the deformed mountain
girl, and answered: "God Almighty was sure good to us all that day,
Judy, dear!"

It was only a day later when Auntie Sue received a letter from Homer T.
Ward which sent the dear old lady in great excitement to Betty Jo. The
banker was coming for his long-deferred vacation to the log house by the
river.

There was in his letter a kindly word for his former clerk, Brian Kent,
should Auntie Sue chance to see him; much love for his old teacher and
for the dearest girl in the world, his Betty Jo.

But that part of Homer T. Ward's letter which most excited Auntie
Sue and caused Betty Jo to laugh until she cried was this: The great
financier, who, even in his busy life of large responsibilities, found
time for some good reading, had discovered a great book, by a new and
heretofore unknown writer. The book was great because every page of it,
Homer T. Ward declared, reminded him of Auntie Sue. If the writer had
known her for years, he could not have drawn a truer picture of her
character, nor presented her philosophy of life more clearly. It was a
remarkable piece of work. It was most emphatically the sort of writing
that the world needed. This new author was a genius of the rarest and
best sort. Mr. Ward predicted boldly that this new star in the literar