y going,
and I shall see something of the world, as you heard Billy Little say."

"Oh, you would rather see the world than me?" queried the girl, drawing
away from him with an injured air, whereupon Dic, of course, vowed that
he would rather see her face than a thousand worlds.

"Then why don't you stay where you can see it?" she asked poutingly.

"Because, as I told you, I want to make money so that when I go into Mr.
Switzer's office I can support you--and the others--" He stopped,
surprised by his words.

"The others? What others?" asked the girl. That was a hard question to
answer, and he undertook it very lamely.

"You see, Rita," he stammered, "there will be--there might--there may
be--don't you know, Rita?"

"No, I don't know, Dic. Why are you so mysterious? What
others--who--oh!" And she hid her face upon his breast, while her arms
stole gently about his neck.

"You see," remarked Dic, speaking softly to the black waves of lustrous
hair, "I must take Iago's advice and put money in my purse. I have
always hoped to be something more than I am. Billy Little, who has been
almost a father to me, has burned the ambition into me. But with all my
yearning, life has never held a real purpose compared with that I now
have in you. The desire for fame, Rita, the throbbing of ambition, the
lust for gold and dominion, are considered by the world to be the great
motives of human action. But, Rita, they are all simply means to one
end. There is but one great purpose in life, and that is furnished to a
man by the woman he loves. Billy Little gave me the thought. It is not
mine. How he knew it, being an old bachelor, I cannot tell."

"Perhaps Billy Little has had the--the purpose and lost it," said Rita,
being quite naturally in a sentimental mood.

"I wonder?" mused Dic.

"Poor, dear old Billy Little," mused Rita. "But you will not go to New
York?" continued Miss Persistency.

Dic had resolved, upon hearing Rita's first petition concerning the New
York trip, that he would be adamant. His resolution to go was built upon
the rock of expediency. It was best for him, best for Rita, that he
should go, and he had no respect for a poor, weak man who would permit a
woman to coax him from a clearly proper course. She should never coax
him out of doing that which was best for them both.

"We'll discuss it at another time," he answered evasively, as he tried
to turn her face up toward him. But her face would not be turned, an