uld
live there and bless God for my happiness."

"My darling child, you must not think that--you couldn't think that."

"But I did, and though the world seemed further away, heaven was
closer. I ought to have been a poor man's daughter, mother, for love
is all there is to live for."

They put their arms about each other. "It would break your father's
heart," the mother said, her tears falling. "It would crush him to the
earth."

"I know it, and my heart may be crushed, instead of his. But that
petition must not be signed."

"Let us wait, my child. Don't say anything. Don't--"

They heard McElwin calling from the foot of the stairs. "Lucy, Lucy, I
think I'll have to go down town again."

"Wait a moment," his wife cried, hastening out, Eva following her. He
turned back before they reached the foot of the stairs, and had
resumed his anxious walk when they entered the parlor.

"Why, what can you be thinking about, James?" his wife asked.

"Thinking about going down town. I must go."

"Not tonight? Why, it's going to rain."

"Doesn't make any difference if it rains bearded pitchforks, I must
go."

His wife took him by the arm: "James, you are keeping something from
me--something has happened."

"No, nothing has happened. A friend of mine has a project on foot. I
am interested in it, and I want to advise him not to go ahead with
it."

"But he couldn't go ahead with it tonight," Eva spoke up.

"Yes he can. You don't know how rash he is; he's got no head at all
when it comes to such matters. Let me get my umbrella."

"James," said his wife, looking into his eyes, "don't deceive us, tell
us what it is."

"What noise was that?" he cried, leaning toward the window. "I heard
something. Gracious!" he exclaimed, as the doorbell rang.

Mr. Menifee, the old minister, was shown in. "Ah, good evening,"
McElwin cried, starting toward him, but then remembering his dignity
he said: "You are always welcome. Sit down."

The old gentleman bowed to the ladies and took the easy chair which
the banker shoved toward him. McElwin turned to the window and stood
there, looking out, listening, with no ear for the solicitous
common-places concerning the health of his household, indulged by the
old gentleman. He glanced at the clock on the mantel, and was
surprised to find that the hour was no later. He turned to the
preacher.

"You can do me a service, Mr. Menifee; you can quiet the fears of my
wife and daughter while I go d