e it
in some less lovely surroundings. Combine with this artistic temperament
an inherent lack of initiative and courage, a less resistant force, and
the product is sure. Moreover, this very falling away from the incentive
to artistic endeavor exacted its penalty in a dulled spirituality.
Whoever denies the allegiance due, in however small a measure, to the
call of art within him pays always the same price--a pound of tender
bleeding flesh nearest his heart. For Eugene Wellington the Shylock
knife was sharpening itself.

This July afternoon there were no misgivings in his soul, however--no
black shadows of failure ahead. All the serpents of "Eden" were very
good little snakes indeed. After a while he would paint again,
leisurely, exquisitely; especially would he paint when Jerry came home.

As he lighted a cigarette, a recent custom of his, and strolled down the
shady way to the rose-arbor to meet Mrs. Darby, he drew deep draughts
of satisfaction. It had been an unusually good day for him. Unusually
good. Business had made it necessary to open some closed records in the
late Cornelius Darby's affairs, records that Mrs. Jerusha Darby herself
had not yet examined. They put a new light on the whole Darby situation.
They went further and threw some side-lights on the late Jim Swaim's
transactions. Altogether they were worth knowing. And Eugene, wielding a
high hand with himself, had, once for all, stilled his finer sense of
fitness in his right to know these things. He had also made rapid
strides in this brief time toward comprehending business ethics as
differing from church ethics and artistic ethics. Face to face in a
conflict with Jerry Swaim, with Aunt Jerry Darby, with his conscience,
his God, he was never sure of himself. But as to managing things, once
he had shut his doors and barred them, he was confident. It was a truly
confident Gene who stepped promptly into the rose-arbor on the moment
expected. To the old woman waiting for him there he was good to look
upon.

"I'm glad you are on time, Gene," Mrs. Darby began, rocking and fanning
more deliberately. "I'm ready now to settle matters once for all."

"Yes, Aunt Jerry," Eugene responded, fitting himself gracefully into the
settings of this summer retreat, with a look of steady penetration
coming into his eyes as he took in the face before him.

"Any news from the Argonaut to-day?" he asked, at length, as Mrs. Darby
sat silently rocking.

"Not a line. I gues