hall surely
come? Shall a temporary possession give a man the right to wield
eternal power? For the power of giving or withholding the means of
life may produce eternal results."

When the man rose and moved down the car, oscillating heavily,
steadying himself with his gold-headed cane, and got out in front of
a portentous mansion, Andrew would scarcely have recognized the look
in his own eyes had he seen himself in a mirror.

"That chap is pretty well fixed," said a man next him, to one on the
other side.

"A cool half-million," replied the other.

"More than that," said the first speaker. "His father left him half
a million to start with, besides the business, and he's been piling
up ever since."

"Do you work there?"

"Did, but I had what was mighty nigh a sunstroke last summer; had to
quit. It was damned hot up there under the roof. It's the same old
factory his father had."

"Goin' to work again?"

"Next week, if I'm able, but I dun'no' whether I can stay there
longer than till spring. It's damned hot up there under the roof."

The man who spoke had a leaden hue of face, something ghastly, as if
the deadly heat had begun a work of decomposition. Andrew looked at
him, and his hatred against the rich man who had built himself a
stately mansion, and kept his fellow-creatures at work for him in an
unhealthy factory in tropical heat, and had condemned him for being
too old, was redoubled.

"Andrew Brewster, where have you been?" Fanny asked, when he got
home.

"I've been to Leavitt," answered Andrew, shortly.

"To see if you could get a job there?"

"Yes."

Fanny did not ask if he had been successful. She sighed, and took
another stitch in the wrapper which she was making. That sigh almost
drove Andrew mad.

"I don't see what has got you into such a habit of sighing," he
said, brutally.

Fanny looked at him with reproachful anger. "Andrew Brewster, you
ain't like yourself," said she.

"I can't help it."

"There's no need for you to pitch into me because you can't get
work; I ain't to blame. I'm doing all I can. I won't stand it, and
you might as well know it first as last."

Fanny glared angrily at her husband, then the tears sprang to her
eyes.

Andrew hesitated a moment, then he leaned over her and put his thin
cheek against her rough black hair. "The Lord knows I don't mean to
be harsh to you, you poor girl," said he, "but I wish I was dead."

Fanny seemed to spring into resistance lik