to the point of enthusiasm. The mother insisted upon doing his
mending all the next winter, and the sister embroidered him a pair of
huge antimacassars and a smoking-cap. It sounds funny; but it was grim,
earnest tragedy mixed with pathos. He did it all with such tact that the
poor creatures never half realized how for a fact they never came into
the middle of his life at all. Arlt realizes it, though. That is one of
the most pathetic phases of the whole situation. By the way, Dane, you
know the fellow, I think."

"I wish I did." Beatrix spoke impetuously. "Plenty of people will give
generously, but not many of them are willing to give humanely."

Thayer smiled.

"Old Frau Arlt used to call him her _Lieber Sohn_, and fuss over him as
if he were in dire need of her motherly care. He took it just as it was
given. The two women lived too quietly to have heard of him. Otto never
told them the truth; but outside the house his deference made up for
the familiarity at home. It has been a pretty story to watch, and it has
meant a comfortable life for two half-starved women."

"Who was the man?" Bobby asked idly.

"Lorimer. Sidney Lorimer."

CHAPTER THREE

Of course, as Bobby Dane had said, with such a name, Thayer's family
tree had sprouted in Massachusetts. His Puritanism was hereditary and
strong; it tempered the artistic side of his nature, but it could not
destroy it. In the musical sense of the word, Cotton Mather Thayer
possessed Temperament; but his Temperament was the battle-field where
two warring temperaments were at constant strife.

In the year of grace sixteen hundred and thirty-five, Richard Thayer,
freeman, landed in America. From Plymouth Rock, he strode straight
towards a position of colonial fame. His children and his children's
children kept up the family tradition and name until one of them, of a
more theological bent than his cousins had been, annulled the custom of
his ancestors and named his oldest son for the grim divine, Cotton
Mather Thayer, and during the next one hundred and fifty years, Cotton
Mathers and Richards had flourished side by side among the Thayers of
eastern Massachusetts. They were strong men, one and all, quiet and
self-contained in years of peace, grim fighters in seasons of war, and
prominent citizens at all times, a godly, gritty, and prosperous race.
Of such is the greatness of New England.

Their records, like the records of all good things, were slightly
monoto