him once, and hid him in the cellar for the
reward. Who'd I think he was? I thought he was a wire-tapper, working a
con game!"

Mr. Carroll had not "hung up," but when in the Bronx the beer-glass
crashed, in Wall Street the receiver had slipped from the hand of the
man who held it, and the man himself had fallen forward. His desk hit
him in the face and woke him--woke him to the wonderful fact that he
still lived; that at forty he had been born again; that before him
stretched many more years in which, as the young man with the white
hair had pointed out, he still could make good.

The afternoon was far advanced when the staff of Carroll and Hastings
were allowed to depart, and, even late as was the hour, two of them were
asked to remain. Into the most private of the private offices Carroll
invited Gaskell, the head clerk; in the main office Hastings had asked
young Thorne, the bond clerk, to be seated.

Until the senior partner has finished with Gaskell young Thorne must
remain seated.

"Gaskell," said Mr. Carroll, "if we had listened to you, if we'd run
this place as it was when father was alive, this never would have
happened. It _hasn't_ happened, but we've had our lesson. And after
this we're going slow and going straight. And we don't need you to tell
us how to do that. We want you to go away--on a month's vacation. When I
thought we were going under I planned to send the children on a
sea-voyage with the governess--so they wouldn't see the newspapers. But
now that I can look them in the eye again, I need them, I can't let them
go. So, if you'd like to take your wife on an ocean trip to Nova Scotia
and Quebec, here are the cabins I reserved for the kids. They call it
the Royal Suite--whatever that is--and the trip lasts a month. The boat
sails to-morrow morning. Don't sleep too late or you may miss her."

* * * * *

The head clerk was secreting the tickets in the inside pocket of his
waistcoat. His fingers trembled, and when he laughed his voice trembled.

"Miss the boat!" the head clerk exclaimed. "If she gets away from Millie
and me she's got to start now. We'll go on board to-night!"

A half-hour later Millie was on her knees packing a trunk, and her
husband was telephoning to the drug-store for a sponge bag and a cure
for seasickness.

Owing to the joy in her heart and to the fact that she was on her knees,
Millie was alternately weeping into the trunk-tray and offerin