newest clothes; his boots were polished; and his hair, already
somewhat gray, was carefully brushed.

"What is it, Jamie? Have you come for a vacation?" said Mr. Bowdoin.

"Vacation!" sniffed Jamie. Once, many years before, he had been given
a week off, and had gone to Nantasket; but his principal diversion had
been to take the morning steamboat thence to the city, and gaze into
the office windows from the wharf.

"It is something about pretty Miss Sadie, I'll be bound."

"You are always right, sir," said Jamie quietly. His eyes were very
bright; he was almost young-looking; and his manner had a certain
dignity. "And I beg you, sir, for leave to ask your judgment."

Mr. Bowdoin motioned Jamie to a chair. And it marked his curious
sense that he was treating as man to man that for the first and only
time within that office Jamie took it.

"Mercedes." Jamie lingered lovingly over the name. "I have tried my
best, sir. I have made her--nay, she was one--like a lady. You would
not let her marry Master Harley."

"I never"--the old gentleman interrupted. Jamie waved his hand.

"They would not, I mean, sir. She will not marry John Hughson. You are
a gentleman, sir, and could tell me if I--would be taking an unfair
advantage--if I asked her--to marry--me. I am sure--I love her
enough."

Jamie dropped his voice quickly on the last words, so that they were
inaudible to Mr. James Bowdoin, who had suddenly laughed.

Old Mr. Bowdoin turned angrily upon his son.

But Jamie's face had turned to white. He rose respectfully. "Don't say
anything, sir. I have had my answer."

"Forgive me, Mr. McMurtagh," said James Bowdoin the younger. "I'm
sure she could not have a kinder husband. But"--

"Don't explain, Mr. James."

"But--after all, why not ask her?"

"Nay, nay," said Jamie, "I'll not ask the child. I would not have her
make a mistake, as I see it would be."

"But, Jamie," said Mr. James kindly, "what will you do? She can hardly
go on living in your home."

"Not in my home? Where else has the child a home?"

There are certain male natures that fight crying. An enemy who looks
straight at you with tears in his eyes is not to be contended with.
And Jamie stood there, blushing fiery red, with flashing eyes, and
tears streaming down his cheeks.

"James Bowdoin, you're a d----d fool!" sputtered his irate sire. "You
talk as your wife might talk. This is an affair of men. Jamie," he
added very gently, "you are quite righ