ruth. She had
forgotten that the man before her was sick--dying; that he must have
suffered terribly in spirit as well as body; and that her words were
so many barbed shafts striking at his soul. She remembered nothing
save the thing against which she was fighting: the hard, merciless
possession of money and the arrogant boast of it.

"And you forget that the burden of trouble which the brave rich bear
so nobly are troubles they've put into the world themselves. They
hoard their money to buy power; and then they use that power to get
more money. And so the chain grows--money and power, money and power!
I heard of a rich man once who turned a terrible fever loose all over
the land because he bribed the health inspectors not to close down
his factories. And after death had swept his books clean he gave
large sums of money to stamp out the epidemic in the near-by towns.
Faith! that was grand--the bearing of that trouble! And why are the
rich hated? Why do they live friendless and die lonely? Not because
they hold money, not because they give it away or help others with
it. No! But because they use it to crush others, to rob those who
have less than they have, to turn their power into a curse. That's
the why!"

Patsy, the fanatic, turned suddenly into Patsy, the human, again. The
fist that had been beating the air under his nose dropped and spread
itself tenderly on the sick man's knee. "But I'm sorry you're lonely.
If there was anything you wanted--that you couldn't buy and I could
earn for you--I would get it gladly."

"I believe you would," and the confession surprised the man himself
more than it did Patsy. "Who are you?" he asked at last.

"No one at all, just; a laggard by the roadside--a lass with no home,
no kin, and that for a fortune," and she flung out her two empty
hands, palm uppermost, and laughed.

"And you are audacious enough to think you are richer than I." This
time there was no sneer in his voice, only an amused toleration.

"I am," said Patsy, simply.

"You have youth and health," he conceded, grudgingly.

"Aye, and trust in other folks; that's a fearfully rich possession."

"It is. I might exchange with you--all this," and his hand swept
encompassingly over his great estate, "for that last--trust in other
folks--in one's own folks!"

"Maybe I'd give it to you for nothing--a little of it at any rate.
See, you trust me; and here's--trust in your son." Patsy's voice
dropped to a whisper; she