lt that his offer would
keep. It was unusual and quite outside their experiences, but in these
days of women architects, legislators, financiers, who could tell where
the sex would turn up next? So at a meeting of the stockholders it was
agreed that it would do no harm to "give the girl a chance" though they
made no secret of the fact that they had little expectation that she
would be able to take up the option.

When it was secure and she had obtained leave of absence from the
office, Helen felt that the hardest part of the task she had assigned
herself was done. To acquaint Bruce's father with Sprudell's plot and
enlist him on Bruce's side seemed altogether the easiest part of her
plan. She had no notion that she was the brilliant lady-journalist to
whom the diplomat, the recluse, the stern and rock-bound capitalist,
give up the secrets of their souls, but she did have an assured feeling
that with the arguments she had to offer she could manage Bruce's "Dad."

Therefore on the monotonous journey west her nerves relaxed and with a
comfortable feeling of security she rehearsed her case as she meant to
present it, which was to conclude with an eloquent plea for help. It
seemed to her that in spite of the years of estrangement it would be the
most natural thing in the world for Burt, when he heard all the facts,
to rush to the rescue of his son. Of the result she really entertained
no doubt.

But she was reckoning without John Burt. Reasoning that would apply to
nearly any other man did not at all fit Bruce's father. Helen had the
sensation of having run at full speed against a stone wall when Burt
came toward her slowly, leading his saddle-horse through one of the
corrals near the unpretentious ranch-house, which she had reached after
a long drive.

The amenities to which she was accustomed were not, as the phrase is,
John Burt's long suit. He did not raise his hat, extend a hand, or
evince the slightest interest by any lighting of the eye. With his arm
thrown across his saddle he waited for her to begin, to state her
business and be gone.

The broad backs of ten thousand cattle glistened in the sun as they fed
inside the John Burt ranch, but owing to his seedy appearance their
owner was frequently mistaken for his own hired man. Self-centred, of
narrow views, strong prejudices, saving to penuriousness, whatever there
was of sentiment, or warm human impulse, in his nature, seemed to have
been buried with Bruce's mo