gone on. The time never came when Neal felt able to pay the
debt; on the other hand, he borrowed more, and now it had reached
alarming proportions. His monthly allowance, when it arrived, was gone
in a flash, for Neal had never been in the habit of denying himself. It
would have been hard for him to explain why he did not go frankly to his
sister, tell her the whole story, and ask for her help, except that he
was thoroughly ashamed of having placed himself in such straits and did
not want to acknowledge it.

Tony Bronson had become intimate with Tom Morgan at St. Asaph's, Tom not
being particular in his choice of friends. In that way he had come to
visit the Morgans in Brenton. His handsome face and apparently perfect
manner attracted many to him who could not see beneath the surface, and
his languid man-of-the-world air made an impression.

He cultivated this to the last degree. He was not naturally so lazy, but
he thought it effective.

When he said to Edith that he wished to tell her something about Neal
Gordon, she looked at him in still greater surprise.

"I want to ask your help, Miss Franklin. A girl can manage these things
so much better than a fellow. I like Gordon immensely, and I want to do
all I can to help him out of a scrape."

"Does he know that you are speaking to me about him?"

"No, of course not. The fact is--"

"Then I think, Mr. Bronson," interrupted Edith, gently, but with
decision, "that perhaps it would be better for us not to discuss him."

"But you quite misunderstand me, Miss Franklin. I am speaking only for
his own good. I can't bear to see a fellow going straight to the bad, as
I really am very much afraid he is, and not lift a finger to help him. I
thought if I told you that perhaps you might speak to his sister--"

Edith interrupted him again, with heightened color. "I can do nothing of
the sort. Nothing would induce me to speak to Mrs. Franklin on the
subject. I--I couldn't possibly."

Bronson looked at her compassionately.

"Ah, it is as I thought! You and Mrs. Franklin are not congenial. I am
so sorry."

Edith said nothing. She knew that he should not make such a remark to
her, a perfect stranger. She felt that he did not ring true. And yet she
could not bring herself to administer the reproof that Cynthia would
have given under like circumstances.

"I am afraid I have offended you," said Bronson, presently; "do forgive
me! And if you like I will say no more about the bad