o carry business to a profitable
conclusion--that is to pecuniary profit. He might confess to
himself, also, that that English clergyman, in his quiet
parsonage, under his ancient trees, seemed to him a very happy
man all at once in that moment. After a while, he said:

"It must be so. Happiness and unhappiness are one thing for poor
people, and another for the rich."

He looked at the clock.

"But now--"

"Now, I have no time!" laughed Cara. "No, no, father, two minutes
more, a minute more--I will ask about something else."

"You will ask more!" exclaimed he, with such a laugh as he had
hardly ever given.

"Yes, yes--something even more important than the last. I am
troubled about it--it pains me so--"

She changed from foot to foot, and embraced her father with all
her strength, as if fearing that he might run away.

"Did father mean really to say that one should not uphold the
poor, the hungry, the sorrowful, the sad, nor comfort them; that
it is only necessary to leave them so that they may die as soon
as possible? When father said that I felt sick in some way. Mamma
and Ira this long time support two old men, so gray and nice,
whom Miss Mary and I visit often. Do mamma and Ira do badly?
Should we let them die as soon as possible from hunger? Brrr! it
is terrible! Does father think so really, or did he only say what
he did to get rid of those gentlemen the more quickly? Father you
are good, the best, a dear, golden father. Do you really believe
what you said, or was it to get rid of those men? I beg you to
answer me, I beg you!"

This time her eyes were fixed on his face, with a gleam which was
almost feverish, and again he stood in silence, filled with
astonishment. Why could his mouth not open to tell that girl his
profoundest conviction?

With all the wrinkles between his brows, he said, without a
smile:

"I said that to get rid of them; I wished to be rid of those
gentlemen as quickly as possible." The soles of Cara's feet
struck the floor time after time with delight.

"Yes, yes! I was sure of that! My best, dearest father--"

Stroking her hair, he added:

"We must be kind. Be kind always. Keep the life in gray-haired,
nice old men. You will never lack money for that."

She kissed his hands; suddenly her glance fell on her father's
desk, and she cried:

"Puffie! Puffie! where have you climbed to? There you are, you
have crawled on to the desk and done so much mischief!"
The ash-colored