death and burial of her brother, and
took particular pains to place Nancy McVeigh's part in it in its true
light, as he had a warm spot in his heart for the old tavern-keeper.
They drove together out to the home of Cousin Jim, where the servants
had opened the house in preparation for their coming. The
weather-stained gable of Nancy McVeigh's tavern, like some old familiar
face, came into view by the way, and Sophia asked to be set down at the
door.

Nancy, tall, angular and sympathetic, walked into her parlor to meet
her guest.

The minister did not stay, but left them together, the younger woman
sobbing on the breast of the older, who bent over and stroked the
troubled head softly.

CHAPTER III.

_JOHN KEENE'S EDUCATION._

"If the world had no mean people, there'd be little use fer kindness,"
remarked Nancy McVeigh to Moore, the operator at the railway junction,
who always enjoyed a smoke and a half-hour chat with his hostess after
his midday meal. They were discussing the escapades of young John
Keene in the little parlor upstairs, whither Mistress McVeigh had gone
to complete a batch of home-knit socks for her son, Cornelius, who
lived in Chicago.

"I can't understand such a difference in the natures of father and
son," Moore continued, after Nancy's interruption. "The father starts
life penniless, without education, friends or business training. He
settles in a locality where the majority of his neighbors find it a
heart-breaking struggle to make ends meet, and amasses a fortune. Such
a performance in a country where business is brisk and natural
facilities favorable to the manipulations of a clever man would not be
so surprising, but we all know the Monk Road has no gold mines or
streams of commerce to disturb its dreamlike serenity."

A tone of irony pervaded Moore's words, for he was past forty, and had
but a paltry bank account and a living salary to show for his ten
years' sojourn in the place.

"Compare the father's record with that of his son. The boy is given
all the advantages that money can obtain, and plenty of time for
growth, and he has also the example of his parent. Why, the lad was
the terror of the school, never out of mischief, and costing his father
a pretty sum to keep him from serious consequences. Before he was
fifteen he spent his Saturdays carousing with the wildest set in the
town, and incidentally built up a very unenviable reputation. Then he
was sent to a city