making the most natural and ordinary request in the world.
"I want you to lend us the money to send Leicester to Blue Hill
Academy; he will pay it back to you when he gets through college. I
want you to lend Jean the money for music lessons; she will pay you
back when she gets far enough along to give lessons herself. And I
want you to lend me the money to shingle our house and get Mother a
new dress and fur coat for the winter. I'll pay you back sometime for
that, because I am going to set up as a dressmaker pretty soon."

"Anything more?" said Uncle Eugene, when Dorinda stopped.

"Nothing more just now, I think," said Dorinda reflectively.

"Why don't you ask for something for yourself?" said Uncle Eugene.

"I don't want anything for myself," said Dorinda promptly. "Or--yes, I
do, too. I want your friendship, Uncle Eugene."

"Be kind enough to sit down," said Uncle Eugene.

Dorinda sat.

"You are a Page," said Uncle Eugene. "I saw that as soon as I came in.
I will send Leicester to college and I shall not ask or expect to be
paid back. Jean shall have her music lessons, and a piano to practise
them on as well. The house shall be shingled, and the money for the
new dress and coat shall be forthcoming. You and I will be friends."

"Thank you," gasped Dorinda, wondering if, after all, it wasn't a
dream.

"I would have gladly assisted your mother before," said Uncle Eugene,
"if she had asked me. I had determined that she must ask me first. I
knew that half the money should have been your father's by rights. I
was prepared to hand it over to him or his family, if I were asked for
it. But I wished to humble his pride, and the Carter pride, to the
point of asking for it. Not a very amiable temper, you will say? I
admit it. I am not amiable and I never have been amiable. You must be
prepared to find me very unamiable. I see that you are waiting for a
chance to say something polite and pleasant on that score, but you may
save yourself the trouble. I shall hope and expect to have you visit
me often. If your mother and your brothers and sisters see fit to come
with you, I shall welcome them also. I think that this is all it is
necessary to say just now. Will you stay to tea with me this evening?"

Dorinda stayed to tea, since she knew that Jean was at home to attend
to matters there. She and Uncle Eugene got on famously. When she left,
Uncle Eugene, grim and hard-lipped as ever, saw her to the door.

"Good evening, N