a cottage set back among the trees. "I live
here with my sister and brother and mother. Father is dead," she went on
hurriedly, as though wishing to place before him a quick digest of the
family affairs, "and we keep up the home by living on with mother as
boarders; that is, Grace and I do. Hubert is still in high school. Won't
you come in?"

He followed her up the path and into a little hall, lighted only by
chance rays falling through a half-opened door. She did not switch on
the current, and Grant was aware of a comfortable sense of her nearness,
quite distinct from any office experience, as she took his hat. In the
living-room her mother received him with visible surprise. She was not
old, but widowhood and the cares of a young family had whitened her hair
before its time.

"We are glad to see you, Mr. Grant," she said. "It is an unexpected
pleasure. Big business men do not often--"

"Mr. Grant is different," her daughter interrupted, lightly. "I found
him wandering the streets and I just--retrieved him."

"I think I AM different," he admitted, as his eye took in the
surroundings, which he appraised quickly as modest comfort, attained
through many little economies and makeshifts. "You are very happy here,"
he went on, frankly. "Much more so, I should say, than in many of the
more pretentious homes. I have always contended that, beyond the margin
necessary for decent living, the possession of money is a burden and a
handicap, and I see no reason to change my opinion."

"Phyllis is a great help to me--and Grace," the mother observed. "I hope
she is a good girl in the office."

Grant was hurrying an assent but the girl interrupted, perhaps wishing
to relieve him of the necessity of an answer.

"'Decent living' is a very elastic term," she remarked. "There are
so many standards. Some women think they must have maids and social
status--whatever that is--and so on. It can't be done on mother's
income."

"That quality is not confined to women," Grant said. "I know I am
regarded as something of a freak because I prefer to live simply. They
can't understand my preference for a plain room to read and sleep in,
for quiet walks by myself when I might be buzzing around in big motor
cars or revelling with a bunch at the club. I suppose it's a puzzle to
them."

Miss Bruce had seated herself near him. "They are beginning to offer
explanations," she said. "I hear them--such things always filter down.
They say you are me