verything, why, there would be
more than a year of comfort for them all, and new clothes for father,
who was beginning to look shabby.

"But they won't," Barbara said to herself, sadly. "I can't expect them
to buy it all when I'm asking so much."

Down in the living-room, Ambrose North was inquiring restlessly for
Barbara. "Yes," he said, somewhat impatiently, "I know she's upstairs,
for you've told me so twice. What I want to know is, why doesn't she
come down?"

"She's busy at something, probably," returned Miriam, with forced
carelessness, "but I think she'll soon be through."

"Barbara is always busy," he answered, with a sigh. "I can't understand
it. Anyone might think she had to work for a living. By the way, Miriam,
do you need more money?"

"We still have some," she replied, in a low voice.

"How much?" he demanded.

"Less than a hundred dollars." She did not dare to say how much less.

"That is not enough. If you will get my check-book, I will write another
check."

[Sidenote: The Old Check-Book]

Miriam's face was grimly set and her eyes burned strangely beneath her
dark brows. She went to the mahogany desk and took an old check-book out
of the drawer.

"Now," he said, as she gave him the pen and ink, "please show me the
line. 'Pay to the order of'----"

She guided his hand with her own, trying to keep her cold fingers from
trembling. "Miriam Leonard," he spelled out, in uneven characters,
"Five--hundred--dollars. Signed--Ambrose--North. There. When you have no
money, I wish you would speak of it. I am fully able to provide for my
family, and I want to do it."

"Thank you." Miriam's voice was almost inaudible as she took the check.

"The date," he said; "I forgot to date it. What day of the month is it?"

She moistened her parched lips, but did not speak. This was what she had
been dreading.

"The date, Miriam," he called. "Will you please tell me what day of the
month it is?"

"The seventh," she answered, with difficulty.

"The seventh? The seventh of June?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause. "Twenty-one years," he said, in a shrill
whisper. "Twenty-one years ago to-day."

[Sidenote: A Dreadful Anniversary]

Miriam sat down quietly on the other side of the room. Her eyes were
glittering and she was moving her hands nervously. This dreadful
anniversary had, for her, its own particular significance. Upstairs,
Barbara, light-hearted and hopeful, was singing to herself while she
pinne