What a fool I have been," he bitterly confessed, "to have taken up
with this entirely irregular and idiotic enterprise, a venture of
which I knew nothing whatever, and let go the serious fight I had
intended to make on Stone and his crowd."

"Never mind, Bobby," said Agnes. "I have a suspicion that you have cut
a wisdom-tooth. I rather imagined that you needed this one last folly
as a sort of relapse before complete convalescence, to settle you down
and bring you back to me for a more serious effort. I see that the
most of your money is tied up in this embarrassing suit, and when I
read that you were on your way home I went to Mr. Chalmers and got him
to arrange for the release of some bonds. Following the provisions of
your father's will your next two hundred and fifty thousand is waiting
for you. Moreover, Bobby, this time I want you to listen to your
trustee. I have found a new business for you, one about which you know
nothing whatever, but one that you must learn; I want to put a weapon
into your hands with which to fight for everything you have lost."

He looked at her in wonder.

"I always told you I needed you," he declared. "When _are_ you going
to marry me?"

"When you have won your fight, Bobby, or when you have proved entirely
hopeless," she replied with a smile in which there was a certain
amount of wistfulness.

"You're a good sort, Agnes," he said a little huskily, and he pondered
for some little time in awe over the existence of women like this. "I
guess the governor was mighty right in making you my trustee, after
all. But what is this business?"

"The _Evening Bulletin_ is for sale, I have learned. Just now it is an
independent paper, but it seems to me you could not have a better
weapon, with your following, for fighting your political and business
enemies."

"I'll think that over very seriously," he said with much soberness. "I
have refused everybody's advice so far, and have taken only my own. I
have begun to believe that I am not the wisest person in the world;
also I have come to believe that there are more ways to lose money
than there are to make money; also I've found out that men are not the
only gold-brick salesmen. Agnes, I'm what Biff Bates calls a 'Hick'!"

"Look what your father has to say about this last escapade of yours,"
she said, smiling, and from her desk brought him one of the familiar
gray envelopes. This was the letter:

_To My Daughter Agnes, Upon Bobby's Entangle