and stepped back to get the general effect.
As he did so he happened to glance at the girl, drooping rather
listlessly on the stair. He paused instantly, with an exclamation of
dismay.

"No; I'm not going to cry," Lydia told him with a very small smile, "but
it would serve you right if I did."

The workman wiped his forehead and surveyed her in perplexity. "What,
can I do for you?" he asked.

"If you're really serious in asking that," said Lydia with dignity,
"I'll tell you. You can take for granted that I am not an idiot or a
child and talk to me sensibly. Dr. Melton does. And you can tell me what
you started out to--the real reason why you are a common carpenter
instead of in the insurance business. Of course if you think it is none
of my concern, that's another matter. But you said you would."

Rankin looked a little abashed by the grave seriousness of this appeal,
although he smiled at its form. "You speak as though I had my reason
tied up in a package about me, ready to hand, out."

Lydia said nothing, but did not drop her earnest eyes.

He thrust his hands into his pockets and returned this intent gaze, a
new expression on his face. Then picking up a tool, and drawing a long
breath, he said, with the accent of a man who takes an unexpected
resolution: "Well, I _will_ tell you."

He returned to his work, tightening various small screws under the
railing, speaking, as he did so, in a reasonable, quiet tone, with none
of the touch of badinage which had thus far underlain his manner to the
girl. "It's very simple--nothing romantic or sudden about it all. I did
not like the insurance business as I saw it from the inside, and the
more I saw of it, the less I liked it. I couldn't see how I could earn
my living at it and arrive at the age of forty with an honest scruple
left. Not that the insurance business is, probably, any worse than any
other--only I knew about it from the inside. So far as I could guess
the businesses my friends were in weren't very different. At least, I
didn't think I could improve things by changing to them. Also, it was
going to grow more and more absorbing--or, at least, that was the way it
affected the older men I knew--so that at forty I shouldn't have any
other interests than getting ahead of other people in the line of
insurance.

"Now, what was I to do about it? I can't make speeches, and nobody but
crack-brained soreheads like me would listen to them if I did. I'm not a
great phil