said, "shamelessly stung. You are
one of those unsuspecting fellows who think everybody is going to play
fair with them. You belong to the class who keep all kinds of rogues
and scoundrels in easy circumstances. You might almost be charged with
being accessories. Now, just to show how I feel about it--how much did
you pay for these lots?"

"Three thousand dollars. It was all I had."

"Of course it was. If you had had more you would have paid more. I
suppose Conward justified himself with the argument that if he didn't
take your easy money some one else would, which is doubtless true. But
just to show how I feel about it--I'll buy those lots from you, for
three thousand dollars."

"I can't do it, Mr. Elden; I can't do it," said Merton, and there was
moisture on his cheeks. "That would be charity--and I can't take it.
But I'm much obliged. It shows you're square, Mr. Elden, and I hold no
illwill to _you_."

"Well, can I help you in some way you _will_ accept? I'm afraid--I
don't mean to be unkind, but we may as well be frank--I'm afraid you
won't need help very long."

Merton answered as one who has made up his mind to the inevitable, and
Dave thought better of him. This little wreck of a man--this child in
business matters--could look death in the face without a quiver.

"Not so long," he said. "I felt ever so much better when I came here
first; I thought I was really going to be well again. But when I found
what a mistake I had made I began to worry, not for myself, you know,
but the boy, and worry is just what my trouble lives on. I have been
working a little, and boarding out, and the boy is going to school.
But I can't do heavy work, and work of any kind is hard to get. I find
I can't keep going that way."

Merton looked with dreamy eyes through the office window, while Dave
was turning over the hopelessness of his position, and inwardly cursing
a system which made such conditions possible. Society protects the
physically weak from the physically strong; the physical highwayman
usually gets his deserts; but the mental highwayman preys upon the weak
and the inexperienced and the unorganized, and Society votes him a good
citizen and a success.

"I had a plan," Merton continued, half-apologetically, as though his
plan did him little credit; "I had a plan, but it can't be worked out.
I have been trying to raise a little money on my lots, but the mortgage
people just look at me."

"What is you