e
us. That sort of a book would do a heap of good; be real warmin' and
strengthening and make them that read it love the man that wrote it,
and remember him when he was dead and gone."

"I wish I could!" and Randal meant what he said, for he was as tired
of his own style as a watch-maker might be of the magnifying glass
through which he strains his eyes all day. He knew that the heart was
left out of his work, and that both mind and soul were growing morbid
with dwelling on the faulty, absurd and metaphysical phases of life
and character. He often threw down his pen and vowed he would write no
more; but he loved ease and the books brought money readily; he was
accustomed to the stimulant of praise and missed it as the toper
misses his wine, so that which had once been a pleasure to himself and
others was fast becoming a burden and a disappointment.

The brief pause which followed his involuntary betrayal of discontent
was broken by Ruth, who exclaimed, with a girlish enthusiasm that
overpowered girlish bashfulness,--

"_I_ think all the novels are splendid! I hope you will write hundreds
more, and I shall live to read 'em."

"Bravo, my gentle champion! I promise that I will write one more at
least, and have a heroine in it whom your mother will both admire and
love," answered Randal, surprised to find how grateful he was for the
girl's approval, and how rapidly his trained fancy began to paint the
background on which he hoped to copy this fresh, human daisy.

Abashed by her involuntary outburst, Ruth tried to efface herself
behind Saul's broad shoulder, and he brought the conversation back to
its starting-point by saying in a tone of the most sincere interest,--

"Speaking of the serial, I am very anxious to know how your hero comes
out. He is a fine fellow, and I can't decide whether he is going to
spoil his life marrying that silly woman, or do something grand and
generous, and not be made a fool of."

"Upon my soul, I don't know myself. It is very hard to find new
finales. Can't you suggest something, Major? then I shall not be
obliged to leave my story without an end, as people complain I am
rather fond of doing."

"Well, no, I don't think I've anything to offer. Seems to me it isn't
the sensational exploits that show the hero best, but some great
sacrifice quietly made by a common sort of man who is noble without
knowing it. I saw a good many such during the war, and often wish I
could write them down, fo