ting work he had at thirty achieved a great
fortune, which had, however; been up to then entirely invested and
involved in his businesses. With, however, the colossal plant at his
disposal, and by aid of the fine character he had won for honesty and
good work, he was able within the next ten years to pile up a fortune
vast even in a nation where multi-millionaires are scattered freely. Then
he had married, wisely and happily. But no child had come to crown the
happiness of the pair who so loved each other till a good many years had
come and gone. Then, when the hope of issue had almost passed away, a
little daughter came. Naturally the child was idolised by her parents,
and thereafter every step taken by either was with an eye to her good.
When the rigour of winter and the heat of summer told on the child in a
way which the more hardy parents had never felt, she was whirled away to
some place with more promising conditions of health and happiness. When
the doctors hinted that an ocean voyage and a winter in Italy would be
good, those too were duly undertaken. And now, the child being in
perfect health, the family was returning before the weather should get
too hot to spend the summer at their chalet amongst the great pines on
the slopes of Mount Ranier. Like the others on board, Mr. and Mrs.
Stonehouse had proffered travellers' civilities to the sad, lonely young
man. As to the others, he had shown thanks for their gracious courtesy;
but friendship, as in other cases, did not advance. The Stonehouses were
not in any way chagrined; their lives were too happy and too full for
them to take needless offence. They respected the young man's manifest
desire for privacy; and there, so far as they were concerned, the matter
rested.

But this did not suit the child. Pearl was a sweet little thing, a real
blue-eyed, golden-haired little fairy, full of loving-kindness. All the
mother-instinct in her, and even at six a woman-child can be a
mother--theoretically, went out towards the huge, lonely, sad, silent
young man. She insisted on friendship with him; insisted shamelessly,
with the natural inclination of innocence which rises high above shame.
Even the half-hearted protests of the mother, who loved to see the child
happy, did not deter her; after the second occasion of Pearl's seeking
him, as she persisted, Harold could but remonstrate with the mother in
turn; the ease of the gentle lady and the happiness of her chi