alace, she had hoped for a slightly more gingery
denouement, something with a bit more punch.

"Yes, but don't it show you?" continued Mr. Abrahams, gallantly trying
to work up the interest. "There's this girl, goes out of my place not
more'n a year ago, with a good bank-roll in her pocket, and here she is,
back again, all of it spent. Don't it show you what a tragedy life is,
if you see what I mean, and how careful one ought to be about money?
It's what I call a human document. Goodness knows how she's been and
gone and spent it all. I'd never have thought she was the sort of girl
to go gadding around. Always seemed to me to be kind of sensible."

"What's gadding, Pop?" asked Master Jakie, the goulash having ceased to
chain his interest.

"Well, she wanted her job back and I gave it to her, and glad to get her
back again. There's class to that girl. She's the sort of girl I want
in the place. Don't seem quite to have so much get-up in her as she used
to... seems kind of quieted down... but she's got class, and I'm glad
she's back. I hope she'll stay. But don't it show you?"

"Ah!" said Mrs. Abrahams, with more enthusiasm than before. It had not
worked out such a bad story after all. In its essentials it was not
unlike the film she had seen the previous evening--Gloria Gooch in "A
Girl against the World."

"Pop!" said Master Abrahams.

"Yes, Jakie?"

"When I'm grown up, I won't never lose no money. I'll put it in the bank
and save it."

The slight depression caused by the contemplation of Sally's troubles
left Mr. Abrahams as mist melts beneath a sunbeam.

"That's a good boy, Jakie," he said.

He felt in his waistcoat pocket, found a dime, put it back again, and
bent forward and patted Master Abrahams on the head.

CHAPTER XV. UNCLE DONALD SPEAKS HIS MIND

There is in certain men--and Bruce Carmyle was one of them--a quality of
resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which aids them as
effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of a sterner and
more practical kind. As a wooer, Bruce Carmyle resembled that durable
type of pugilist who can only give of his best after he has received
at least one substantial wallop on some tender spot. Although Sally had
refused his offer of marriage quite definitely at Monk's Crofton, it had
never occurred to him to consider the episode closed. All his life he
had been accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he meant to get it
now.

He wa