pleasant
duty thrust upon him of telling me that I was cut off without a
cent."

"It was an unpleasant duty," nodded Barton, "but I hope it may be my
good fortune to make up for that."

"I'm afraid the only place you can sit is on the front doorstep,"
laughed Sally.

"As good a place as any," answered Don, leading the way.

"Well," asked Don good-naturedly as soon as they were seated there,
"what's the trouble now? I tell you right off it's got to be something
mighty serious to jar me any at just this time."

"There was still another codicil to your father's will," explained
Barton at once--"a codicil I have not been at liberty to read to you
until now. It had, in fact, no point except in the contingency of your
marriage."

"I hope you aren't going to take the house away from me," scowled
Don.

"No," answered Barton slowly. "It has to do rather with an additional
provision. The substance of it is that in case you married any
one--er--meeting with my approval, you were to be given an allowance
of two thousand a year."

"Eh?"

"Two thousand a year. After that, one thousand a year additional for
each child born of that marriage until the total allowance amounts to
five thousand dollars. At that point the principal itself is to be
turned over to you."

"Oh, Sally!" called Don.

She came running again. It was still four hours before they would be
safely married and many things might happen in four hours.

"Sit down here and listen to this," he commanded. "Now, do you mind
saying that all over again?"

Barton repeated his statement.

"What do you think of that?" inquired Don. "It's just as though I had
my salary raised two thousand a year. Not only that--but the rest is
up to you."

"Don!"

"Well, it is."

"And besides," she gasped, "Mr. Barton has not yet said he approves."

Mr. Barton arose.

"May I say that at once?" he smiled. "I do not think I have always
given Don as much credit for his good judgment as I feel he should
have been given."

"Good old Barton!" choked Don.

"There's one thing more," said Barton--"a--a little present for
myself."

He handed Don an envelope.

"Thank you, sir," said Don, thrusting it unopened in his pocket. "And
now it seems to me the least the bride can do is to let you kiss
her."

"I'm not a bride yet," answered Sally demurely, "but--"

She came to Barton's side and he kissed her on the cheek.

"It's too bad that Pendleton couldn't have lived to know