grows here? If words can
save it, they won't be wanting on my part. But you know better than I do
that I am absolutely powerless in the matter."

She went out of the room, and the squire sat with the sun shining full
on him, and grumbled. What was a blow to Frances, a blow which half
stunned her in its suddenness and unexpectedness, had come gradually to
the squire. For years past he knew that while his daughter was doing her
utmost to make two ends meet--was toiling early and late to bring in a
little money to help the slender household purse--she was only
postponing an evil day which could never be averted. From the first,
Squire Kane in his own small way had been a speculator--never at any
time had he been a lucky one, and now he reaped the results.

After a time he pottered to his feet, and strolled out into the garden.
Frances was nowhere visible, but Arnold and Ellen were standing under a
shady tree, holding an animated conversation together.

"Here comes the squire," said Fluff, in a tone of delight. She flew to
his side, put her hand through his arm, and looked coaxingly and
lovingly into his face.

"I am so glad you are not asleep," she said. "I don't like you when you
fall asleep and get so red in the face; you frightened me last night--I
was terrified--I cried. Didn't I, Mr. Arnold?"

"Yes," replied Arnold, "you seemed a good deal alarmed. Do you happen to
know where your daughter is, Mr. Kane?"

"Yes; she is going into Martinstown on business for me. Ah, yes, Fluff,
you always were a sympathizing little woman." Here the squire patted the
dimpled hand; he was not interested in Philip Arnold's inquiries.

"If Frances is going to Martinstown, perhaps she will let me accompany
her," said Arnold. "I will go and look for her."

He did not wait for the squire's mumbling reply, but started off quickly
on his quest.

"Frances does want the gift of sympathy," said the squire, once more
addressing himself with affection to Ellen. "Do you know, Fluff, that I
am in considerable difficulty; in short, that I am going through just
now a terrible trouble--oh, nothing that you can assist me in, dear.
Still, one does want a little sympathy, and poor dear Frances, in that
particular, is sadly, painfully deficient."

"Are you really in great trouble?" said Fluff. She raised her eyes with
a look of alarm.

"Oh, I am dreadfully sorry! Shall I play for you, shall I sing
something? Let me bring this arm-chair out here b