begun to fight. There's no fool philanthropy
in this, understand; it is just for my own satisfaction."

I was so taken aback by this totally unexpected offer from the man whom
I had insulted a dozen times since I entered his house, that I found it
almost impossible to answer.

"What do you say?" he asked.

"No," I faltered. And then more firmly, "No; certainly not. I--I am much
obliged to you, Mr. Colton, but--no."

"All right. You know best. I'll take your offer and I will hand you the
money at the bank to-morrow morning. Will that do?"

"Not at the bank, Mr. Colton. Send it over to the house, if you can
conveniently."

"I'll have it here before ten. My lawyer will draw up the papers and
arrange for transfer of title in a few days. What? Going, are you? Good
night. Oh--er--Paine, remember that my other offer, that of the place in
my office, is open when you're ready to take it."

I shook my head. I had turned to go, but now I turned back, feeling
that, perhaps, I should apologize again for my rudeness. After all, he
had been kind, very kind, and I had scarcely thanked him. So I turned
back to say something, I hardly knew what.

My doing so was a mistake. The door behind me opened and a voice said
reproachfully, "Father, are you still here? The doctor said . . . Oh, I
beg pardon."

I recognized the voice. Of all voices in the world I wished least to
hear it just then. My back was toward the door and I kept it so. If she
would only go! If she would only shut that door and go away!

I think she would have gone but her father called her.

"Mabel," he cried, "Mabel, don't go. It's all right. Come in. Paine and
I have finished our talk. Nothing more you wished to say, was there,
Paine?"

"No," said I. I was obliged to turn now; I could not get out of that
room without doing it. So turn I did, and we faced each other.

"Good evening, Miss Colton," I said, with all the calmness I could
muster.

She said, "Good evening," distantly and without any enthusiasm, but I
saw her glance at her father and then at me and I knew she was wondering
what our being together could possibly mean.

"Paine has been making me a little call," explained Colton, his eye
twinkling. "Mabel, I'll risk another bet that you can't guess why he
came."

"I shall not try," she said, disdainfully.

"Oh, you'd better! No? You won't? Well, then, I'll tell you. He has just
sold me that land of his . . . Don't look at me like that; he has. We