d tighten her hold of the reins that seemed
slipping from her grasp, which is well, for she has long borne aloft the
only standard of national morality whose code is not a sliding scale.

* * * * *

_September_ 9. Martin came back to-night. As he entered the house with
Evan I positively did not know him, for he has shaved off his mustache
and queer little pussy-cat whiskers, and with them has gone his
"pudgyness." He is really a very fine-looking man, and his features are
developed by the shaving process in an unexpected way. He seems so wide
awake, too, and alive to everything that passes, that I could see that
father, who came from the office to greet him, had difficulty in
restraining his surprise, but he contented himself by asking:--

"How did you fare with the publishers? Did you fall among thieves or
among friends?"

"That is equivalent to asking if my book has been accepted, as it is only
when work is refused that we call the mediums through which we seek to
reach the public hard names. Yes, the fate of my book is soon told; it
has found its place, and is to be fully illustrated as well, though it
will take me many months to collect the unique material they desire; this
insures me a busy winter, for which I am not only prepared but eager.

"I wish I could as easily tell you what this summer here has done for me,
Dick," and he leaned over the chair in which father had seated himself
and laid his arm affectionately across his shoulder. "I think in asking
me here you rescued me from as dangerous a condition of mental apathy as
when you stood by my bed so many years ago."

"Don't thank me," said father, leaning back and looking up at him, "thank
God's sunshine, work, the babies here, and why not woman's society
also,--you used to appreciate that, too, eh, Martin, old man? Give
everybody his, or rather her, due."

"Yes," I heard him answer, as if pondering the matter, while I fled
discreetly upstairs at this juncture, "you doubtless are right; Lavinia
Dorman's criticisms have been of infinite value in ridding my work of a
litter of words that encumbered the spirit and purpose of it. She is
direct and to the point, and yet withal most sympathetic. I had thought
of dedicating the book to her in some private way, for really we are
joint heirs, as it were, in so many traditions and habits of old New
York, that it would not seem strained or inappropriate."

"On the contrary, I think