ave Milford her hand. In
his calloused palm it felt like the soft paw of a kitten. George nodded
with an indistinct grunt.

"Well, how is everything?" Milford asked.

"Rotten," George answered. His wife sighed, and brushed off a white moth
that had lighted on his coat sleeve. "But it will get better," she said.
"Don't you think so, Mr. Milford?"

"Bound to," Milford agreed. "I'm a firm believer in everything coming
out all right. I've seen it tested time and again. Hope is the world's
best bank account." George looked at him. "That's all right enough," he
admitted.

"Hope is the soul's involuntary prayer," his wife observed, and he
looked at her. "That's all well enough, too," said he, "but what's the
use of tying a ribbon around your neck in a snow-storm, when what you
need is an overcoat? A man can wrap all the hope in the world around
himself, and then freeze to death."

"That's true," said Milford, catching sight of the woman's eyes as she
drew a long breath, "but hope may lead him out of the storm. Pardon me,
but I infer that you've met business reverses."

"Struck the ceiling," said George.

"How often?"

"Isn't once enough?"

"Yes, but I've struck it a hundred times. I've been kept on the bounce,
like a ball."

"That's all right, but do you feel thankful for it?"

"Well, my heart isn't bursting with gratitude, but it might have been
worse--I might have stuck to the ceiling. When you throw a dog into the
water, he always shakes himself when he comes out. It's a determination
to be dry again. And that's the way a man ought to do--shake himself
every time he's thrown."

"I don't know but you're right. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Rooting like a hog for something to eat. And I've not only failed in
nearly everything I undertook, but I've been a fool besides. But I've
got sense enough to know that it has all been my own fault. I believe
that, if a man's in good health, it's always his own fault if he don't
succeed. I could sit down and growl at the world; I could wish I had it
under my heel to grind the life out of it; and the truth is, we all have
a part of it under our heels, and if we keep on grinding we'll make an
impression. I am what you might call a national egotist. I believe that
nearly everything lies within the range of an American. He may do
wrong--he does do wrong. Sometimes he does a great wrong, but nine times
out of ten he tries to make it right. I believe that the Yankee has mo