illness.

"It gives me great pleasure to see that you like the room," said he,
simply, "and I am grateful to you for so heartily expressing your
approval. But before we go further I feel it is only honest to confess
to you that it is neither the Coddington Company nor myself that you
should thank for this new library. Shall I tell you how you chanced to
have it?"

"Yes! Yes!" came from all over the room.

Then in humorous fashion Mr. Coddington sketched the tale of two boys
and an interrupted luncheon, drawing a vivid picture of how the lads had
been unceremoniously tumbled to the floor out of their stronghold in the
packing-boxes. Mr. Coddington had a gift for telling a story and he told
this one with consummate skill.

At its conclusion there was a general laugh.

"Those boys are with us to-day," continued the president. "They are not
strangers to you. One of them is Nat Jackson, whom you all know well,
and the other--the lad who furnished me with the inspiration for this
venture is----"

Instantly the curtain over the fireplace was withdrawn.

"Peter Strong!" cried the men.

It was indeed Peter who smiled down on the throng from out the broad
gilt frame! Not Peter Coddington of the fashionable "west side,"--the
son and heir of the president of the company, but Peter Strong--Peter in
faded jumper and with the collar of his shirt turned away so that one
could see where the firm young head rose out of it; Peter with hair
tumbled, cheeks flushed from hard work, and his eyes shining as they
always shone when he was happy; Peter Strong--the Peter the men knew and
loved!

The boy himself looked on, bewildered. Well he knew the source of the
portrait. It had evidently been copied from a snap-shot Nat had taken of
him one day when the two were coming out of the beamhouse. His father's
delay in finding a suitable picture was also now explained. He had had
to wait for the portrait to be painted.

Nat, who was watching Peter's face with no small degree of amusement,
now whispered:

"I kept one secret from you anyhow, Peter. Mr. Coddington came to see us
one evening last spring and asked if I had any kodak picture of you,
explaining what he wanted it for. So I let him look over what I had and
he chose this one. It's fine, isn't it?"

"Why, I don't know," stammered Peter. "I--I'm so flabbergasted I----"

Nat laughed.

All this time the men were cheering and now cries of "Peter Strong!"
"Peter Strong!" rent the a