he duty of parents to get their
children the very best of everything."

"The best they can afford, yes. But-- However, it's here and the only
thing to do is to pay for it. I'll send a check in the morning."

He returned to the living-room. Shirley followed. He stood for a long
minute by the table, looking down at the new book. Then he restored it
to its wrappings.

"What are you doing?"

"I think I'll not keep it, after all."

"What is it?"

"A book I wanted for some cathedral sketches I'm making."

She studied his face intently.

"David Quentin, do you mean to say you begrudge things for Davy Junior,
when you can buy expensive books for plans nobody will ever want?"

A retort sprang to his lips--that professional knowledge is always an
asset. But the words did not fall. Nor did it seem worth while to
tell her that for three weeks he had had his lunches over a dairy
counter to save money for the book. Instead he mustered a smile.

"As you see, we're keeping the bassinet and the book goes back."

She saw only the smile. "Why, we almost had a tiff, didn't we. Brrr!"
She pretended to shiver. "And you know we mustn't have them, because
they'd have a bad effect on Davy Junior."

So that squall passed, and they talked of Davy Junior. And Davy
Junior--they were sure it was to be a boy--was already a personage in
that household, a hope and a love in which both shared.

But long after Shirley had gone to bed David sat thinking of the
episode. One of the little criticisms, quite definite now, lingered: a
suspicion that Shirley's words were not always pearls of wisdom, that
her attitude was a little too possessive, her demands upon his time and
thought and scanty store of money a trifle less than reasonable
sometimes. Sternly he crushed the suspicion back.

"It must be that I'm settling down. The novelty's wearing off. And I
suppose, having no one but myself to think of for so long, I did get to
be pretty selfish. I must be very careful." But somehow the argument
did not quite convince. "I wish-- Maybe when the baby comes Shirley
will take things a little more"--he halted before the word so
disloyal--"sensibly." . . .

Davy Junior and the panic came at the same time.

And with them came Worry.

The wise statesmen and newspapers offered many explanations of the
panic. But explanations could not soften the grim fact. Ruin stalked
through the land, and its ghostly twin, Fear. Men who had b