d the foxy little widower did not dream how near to danger he was.
With the self-control that was a part of John Baronet's character, he
replied in an even voice:

"You will come when I send for you."

That evening my father told me all that had taken place.

"You are a man now, and must stand up against this miserable cur. But
you must proceed carefully. No hot-headed foolishness will do. He will
misjudge your motives and mine, and he can plant some ugly seeds along
your way. Property is his god. He is daily defrauding the defenceless to
secure it. When I move against him it will be made to appear that I do
it for your sake. Put yourself into the place where, of your own
wage-earning power, you can keep a wife in comfort, not luxury yet. That
will come later, maybe. And then I'll hang this dog with a rope of his
own braiding. But I'll wait for that until you come fully into a man's
estate, with the power to protect what you love."

CHAPTER XIII

THE TOPEKA RALLY

And men may say what things they please, and none dare stay their tongue.
But who has spoken out for these--the women and the young?

--KIPLING.

Henceforth I had one controlling purpose. Mine was now the task to prove
myself a man with power to create and defend the little kingdom whose
throne is builded on the hearthstone. I put into my work all the energy
of my youth and love and hope.

I applied myself to the study of law, and I took hold of my father's
business interests with a will. I was to enter into a partnership with
him when I could do a partner's work. He forebore favors, but he gave me
opportunity to prove myself. Stories of favoritism on account of my
father's position, of my wasteful and luxurious habits, ludicrous enough
in a little Kansas town in the sixties, were peddled about by the
restless little widower. By my father's advice I let him alone and went
my way. I knew that silently and persistently John Baronet was trailing
him. And I knew the cause was a righteous one. I had lived too long in
the Baronet family to think the head of it would take time to follow
after a personal dislike, or pursue a petty purpose.

There may have been many happy lovers on these sunny prairies that
idyllic summer, now forty years gone by. The story of each, though like
that of all the others, seems best to him who lived it. Marjie and I
were going through commonplace days, but we were very happy with the joy
of life and love. Our old