e
thing was wrong and that innocent people might lose money in it. It was
his duty to expose it, and he did it, even though it meant the loss of
influence and of father's friendship. I see."

"That was about it, Caroline. I think the hardest part for him was when
'Bije called him ungrateful. 'Bije had been mighty kind to him, that's a
fact."

"Yes. Father was kind; I know that better than anyone else. But Mr.
Pearson was right. Yes, he was right, and brave."

"So I size it up. And I do sympathize with your father, too. This wa'n't
such an awful lot worse than a good many stock deals. And poor 'Bije was
perfectly desp'rate, I guess. If it had gone through he'd have been able
to square accounts with the Rubber Company; and just think what that
would have meant to him. Poor feller! poor feller!" He sighed. She
reached for his hand and stroked it gently with her own.

After another interval she said: "How I insulted and wronged him! How he
must despise me!"

"Who? Jim? No, no! he don't do any such thing. He knows you didn't
understand, and who was responsible. Jim's got sense, lots of it."

"But it is my misunderstanding and my insulting treatment of him which
have kept you two apart--here, at any rate."

"Don't let that worry you, Caroline. I see him every once in a while, up
to the city."

"It does worry me; and it will, until it is made right. And," in a lower
tone, but with decision, "it shall be."

She rose and, bending over, kissed him on the forehead. "Good night,
Uncle," she said.

Captain Elisha was disappointed. "What!" he exclaimed. "Goin' aloft so
soon? We ain't had our readin' yet. Pretty early to turn in, seems to
me. Stay a little longer, do."

"Not to-night, dear. I'm going to my room. Please excuse me this time."
She turned to go and then, turning back again, asked a final question.

"You're sure," she said, hesitatingly; "you're quite sure he will not
come here--to you--if you tell him I understand, and--and you ask him?"

"Well, Caroline, I don't know. You see, I was responsible for his comin'
before. He had some scruples against it then, but I talked him down.
He's sort of proud, Jim is, and he might--might not want to--to--"

"I see. Good night, Uncle."

The next morning, after breakfast, she came to him again.

"Uncle Elisha," she said, "I have written him."

"What? You've written? Written who?"

"Mr. Pearson. I wrote him, telling him I had learned the true story of
his disagreem