essive man had taken away a good
many of his customers, his money had gone in ordinary living expenses,
his assets had shrunk to almost nothing, and his liabilities had
increased to fifteen hundred dollars, which to him might just as well
have been a million, and now all he could do was to throw himself on
the mercy of his creditors. Which he did."

"And what did they do?" said Helen, in a low voice.

"This is what the old man said--the commercial agency reporter gave it
just as the old man said it: 'I have sold harness in this town since I
was twenty years old. Now you say I am bankrupt. I want to do what is
right. I don't want to cheat any man. I don't know where the money
has gone. You gentlemen must do what is best. But I hope you can make
some arrangement by which I can keep my business. I have had it so
many, so many years. It probably won't be for much longer anyhow. But
we don't want to go on the town--my wife and I. A man and his wife
ought not to go on the town when he's worked honest all his life and is
willing to work still.'"

Smith rose abruptly, and turned toward the window. "I've heard of
'Over the Hills to the Poorhouse' and similar things," the underwriter
went on, after a moment, not looking at the girl, "but this somehow
seemed different. Perhaps it was its unexpectedness, or finding it in
such a way. Do you know," he said, "I felt as though I'd like to write
a check for fifteen hundred dollars and send it to that old harness
maker up in Robbinsville, just to give him one more chance."

He turned at the touch of a light hand on his arm.

"I'd like to go halves with you," said a voice which Helen's Boston
acquaintances would hardly have recognized as hers.

"It's a go," said Smith. "I can't afford it; but five or six hundred
dollars in actual cash would probably straighten things out pretty
well, and if the creditors don't grant the extension to give the old
fellow enough to carry him the rest of the way--by Jove, we'll finance
the harness business, you and I!"

"You can count on me for my half. Shake hands on the bargain!" cried
Helen, in the exhilaration following emotion sustained, and Smith
gravely took her hand in his own. For a moment they stood side by side
looking out on the East River which O'Connor's office overlooked, and
for a space neither spoke. Then Helen returned somewhat sedately to
her seat, and demurely spoke to Smith's back:--

"Well, my present interest