uin
as partner with his old chum, William Graham, now millionaire.

"Your father sort of brought Ed up, you know, Rod, made him walk the
straight and narrow way as he has done with many a man. I want to take
my hat off every time I see that father of yours." He saw the distress
in Roderick's face and was rather disconcerted. "Your father paid him
every cent with interest, of course, Lad, you know that," he added
hurriedly. "But there are some things can't be paid in money. Well,
well--where did I start? Oh, at Jerusalem, and I've wandered from Dan
to Beersheba and haven't got anywhere yet. Well, that was how Ed got
started on the habit of staying home from the Holy Land, and he doesn't
seem to be able to get out of it. You know it's a good thing. I'm
always sorry Wordsworth ever went to Yarrow. It's a hundred times
better to keep your dream-country a dream.

'_Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!
It must, or we shall rue it._'

And if he ever goes, it'll never be what he thinks. His dreams of
Galilee and the Rose of Sharon and Mount Carmel will vanish when he
sees the poor reality. You see, in his Palestine, the Lord is always
there." He dropped his voice--

"_'And in those little lanes of Nazareth
Each morn His holy feet would come and go.'_"

Roderick was not listening. He sat with downcast eyes and burning
cheek. Lawyer Ed had done all this for his father, for him,--and this
was his reward! The man had given up his chance in life for his father
and then the son had come and done this abominable thing. Surely the
gleam of the rainbow-gold was beginning to mock him already. And yet,
as he sat there, overcome with humiliation, his mind was busy arranging
swift compromises, as it had always done. He would pay Lawyer Ed, oh,
five fold, and send him away for a year's travel. And yet when all his
generous schemes had been exhausted, he knew they were not what Lawyer
Ed wanted. It was the love and devotion of his friend's son he
preferred above all worldly gain.

He came to a knowledge of his surroundings, called back by a sudden
exclamation from the doctor.

"I believe you're sick, Rod! You look like an advanced and violent
case of sea-sickness."

Roderick became conscious that his arm was paining him severely and
said so. He could have said quite truthfully that the pain in his
heart was quite as bad.

"That old arm," cried Archie Blair in distress. "I tell you, Lad,
you've got