some lives at least, and,
in fact, some future expenditure. Most of the owners, perhaps, felt
somewhat remorseful; a few, it is not impossible, experienced nothing
more serious than annoyance and embarrassment, but it is certain
that there were one or two who were crushed by a sense of personal
responsibility for what had occurred.

It was one of these who made the proposition that Derrick's plan be
accepted unreservedly, and that the engineer himself should be requested
to resume his position and undertake the management of the work. There
was some slight demurring at first, but the catastrophe was so recent
that its effect had not had time to wear away, and finally the agreement
was made.

But at that time Derrick was lying senseless in the bedroom over the
parlor, and the deputation from the company could only wait upon Grace,
and make an effort at expressing their sympathy.

After Joan's return to her lodgings, she, too, was visited. There was
some curiosity felt concerning her. A young and handsome woman, who had
taken so remarkable a part in the tragedy, was necessarily an object of
interest.

Mr. Barholm was so fluently decided in his opinion that something
really ought to be done, that a visit to the heroine of the day was the
immediate result. There was only one form the appreciation of a higher
for a lower social grade could take, and it was Mr. Barholm who had
been, naturally, selected as spokesman. He explained to Joan the nature
of the visit. His friends of the Company had heard the story of her
remarkable heroism, and had felt that something was due to her--some
token of the admiration her conduct had inspired in them. They had
agreed that something ought to be done, and they had called this evening
to present her with a little testimonial.

The bundle of crisp bank-notes burned the hand of the man who held them,
as Joan Lowrie listened to this speech. She stood upright before them,
resting one hand upon the back of a chair, but when the bearer of the
testimonial in question rose, she made a step forward. There was more
of her old self in her gesture than she had shown for months. Her eyes
flashed, her face hardened, a sudden red flew to her cheek.

"Put it up," she said. "I wunnot tak' it."

The man who had the money laid it upon the table, as if he were anxious
to be rid of it He was in a glow of anger and shame at the false step
they had made.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I see we have made