"And your daughters are working?"

"They are in the spinning mills."

Mr. Fernald glanced about over the little room. Although scrupulously
neat, it was quite apparent that the apartment was far too crowded for
comfort. The furnishings also bespoke frugality in the extreme. It was
not necessary to be told that the Turners' life was a close
arithmetical problem.

"Your family stand by us loyally," observed the financier.

"We have your mills to thank for our daily bread, sir," Mr. Turner
answered.

"And your boy--if he does not go on with his studies shall you have him
enter the factories?"

Mr. Turner squared his shoulders with a swift gesture of protest.

"No, sir--not if I can help it!" he burst out. Then as if he suddenly
sensed his discourtesy, he added, "I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I
wasn't thinking who I was talking to. It isn't that I do not like the
mills. It's only that there is so little chance for the lad to get
ahead there. I wouldn't want the boy to spend his life grubbing away as
I have."

"And yet you are denying him the chance to better himself."

"I am kinder going round in a circle, ain't I?" returned Mr. Turner
gently. "Like as not it is hard for you to understand how I feel. It's
only that you hate to let somebody else do for your children. It seems
like charity."

"Charity! Charity--when we owe the life of our boy, the lives of many
of our workmen, the safety of our mills to your son?" ejaculated Mr.
Clarence Fernald with unmistakable sincerity.

"When you pile it up that way it does sound like a pretty big debt,
doesn't it?" mused Mr. Turner.

"Of course it's a big debt--it is a tremendous one. Now try, Mr.
Turner, and see our point of view. We want to take our envelope in our
hands and although we have not fortune enough in the world to wipe out
all we owe, we wish to pay part of it, at least. No matter how much we
may be able to do for Ted in the future, we shall never be paying in
full all that he has done for us. Much of his service we must accept as
an obligation and give in return for it nothing but gratitude and
affection. But if you will grant us the privilege of doing this little,
it will give us the greatest pleasure."

If any one had told the stately Mr. Lawrence Fernald weeks before that
he would be in the home of one of his workmen, pleading for a favor, he
would probably have shrugged his shoulders and laughed; and even Mr.
Clarence Fernald, who was less of an aris