It must be very bad, you see," she said. "Isaiah never would have
written if it had not been. It is hard enough to think that while I was
enjoying myself in Europe and at school they were in such trouble and
keeping it all to themselves. That is hard enough, when I know how
they must have needed me. But if it should be true that it is
their money--money they could not possibly spare--that I have been
spending--wasting there in Boston, I--I--Please tell me, Judge Baxter!
Have I any money of my own? Please tell me."

The Judge rose and walked up and down the floor, his brows drawn
together and his right hand slapping his leg at each turn. After seven
or eight of these turns he sat down again and faced his caller.

"Mary," he said, "suppose this story about your uncles' financial and
business troubles should be true, what will you do?"

Mary met his look bravely. Her eyes were moist, but there was no
hesitation in her reply.

"I shall stay at home and help them in any way I can," she said. "There
will be no more Boston and no more school for me. They need me there at
home and I am going home--to stay."

"Whether it is your money or theirs which has paid for your education?"

"Certainly. Of course I never should have gone away at all if I had
not supposed my own money were paying the expenses. Judge, you haven't
answered my question--and yet I think--I am afraid that you have
answered it. It was their money that paid, wasn't it?"

Judge Baxter was silent for a moment, as if in final deliberation. Then
he nodded, solemnly.

"Yes, Mary," he said, "it was their money. In fact, it has been their
money which has paid for most things in your life. Shadrach Gould and
Zoeth Hamilton aren't, maybe, the best business men in the world, but
they come pretty near to being the best MEN, in business or out of
it, that I have met during seventy odd years on this planet. I think,
perhaps, it will be well for you to know just how good they have been to
you. Now, listen!"

He began at the beginning, at the day of Marcellus Hall's funeral,
when he read the letter to Shadrach and Zoeth, the letter intrusting
Mary-'Gusta to their care. He told of Marcellus's unfortunate
investments, of the loss of the latter's fortune, and how, when the
estate was settled, there were but a few hundreds where it was expected
there might be a good many thousands.

"Don't make any mistake, Mary," he said earnestly. "Your uncles knew
there was little or