e maids and the high-priced chef--fully
expected Jack would turn prodigal as soon as his diet of husks had
whetted his appetite for dishes more nourishing and more toothsome. But
no one of them took account of the quality of the blood that ran in the
young man's veins.

It was scheming Peter who saved the day.

"Put that young fellow to work, Henry," he had said to MacFarlane the
morning after the three had met at the Century Club.

"What does he know, Peter?"

"Nothing, except to speak the truth."

And thus it had come to pass that within twenty-four hours thereafter
the boy had shaken the dust of New York from his feet--even to resigning
from the Magnolia, and a day later was found bending over a pine desk
knocked together by a hammer and some ten-penny nails in a six-by-nine
shanty, the whole situated at the mouth of a tunnel half a mile from
Corklesville, where he was at work on the pay-roll of the preceding
week.

Many things had helped in deciding him to take the proffered place.
First, Peter had wanted it; second, his uncle did not want it, Corinne
and his aunt being furious that he should go to work like a common
laborer, or--as Garry had put it--"a shovel-spanked dago." Third, Ruth
was within calling distance, and that in itself meant Heaven. Once
installed, however, he had risen steadily, both in MacFarlane's
estimation and in the estimation of his fellow-workers; especially the
young engineers who were helping his Chief in the difficult task before
him. Other important changes had also taken place in the two years: his
body had strengthened, his face had grown graver, his views of life had
broadened and, best of all, his mind was at rest. Of one thing he
was sure--no confiding young Gilberts would be fleeced in his present
occupation--not if he knew anything about it.

Moreover, the outdoor life which he had so longed for was his again.
On Saturday afternoons and Sundays he tramped the hills, or spent hours
rowing on the river. His employer's villa was also always open to him--a
privilege not granted to the others in the working force. The old tie
of family was the sesame. Judge Breen's son was, both by blood and
training, the social equal of any man, and although the distinguished
engineer, being well born himself, seldom set store on such things,
he recognized his obligation in Jack's case and sought the first
opportunity to tell him so.

"You will find a great change in your surroundings, Mr. Bre