ars and years. Just wait--wait until you have
heard."

As she unfolded her letter the President's alert eye promptly compared
it with the one behind him on the desk. "So--you have likewise heard
from the widow of the Richest Trustee?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "Oh, you know! She has written you?"

"Not what she has written you, I judge. One could hardly term our
communication 'the best thing that has happened in years.'" And again
a smile twitched at the corners of the President's mouth.

"Then listen to this." Margaret MacLean read the letter eagerly:

"DEAE MARGARET MACLEAN,--There is a home standing on a hilltop--an
hour's ride from the city. It belongs to a lonely old woman who finds
that it is too large and too lonely for her to live in, and too full of
haunting memories to be left empty. Therefore she wants to fill it
with incurable children, and she would like to begin with the discarded
ward of Saint Margaret's."

"That's a miserable way to speak of a lot of children," muttered the
Disagreeable Trustee; but no one paid any attention, and Margaret
MacLean went on:

"There is room now for about twenty beds; and annexes can easily be
added as fast as the need grows. This lonely old woman would consider
it a great kindness if you will take charge; she would also like to
have you persuade the House Surgeon that it is high time for him to
become Senior Surgeon, and the new home is the place for him to begin.
Together we should be able to equip it without delay; so that the
children could be moved direct from Saint Margaret's. It is the whim
of this old woman to call it a 'Home for Curables'--which, of course,
is only a whim. Will you come to see me as soon as you can and let us
talk it over?"

Margaret MacLean folded the letter slowly and put it back in its
envelope. "You see," she said, the little-girl look spreading over her
face--"you see, you mustn't take us back again. I could not possibly
refuse, even if I wanted to; it is just what the children have longed
for--and wished for--and--"

"We are not going to give up the ward; she would have to start her home
with other children." The Dominant Trustee announced it flatly.

Strangely enough, the faces of his fellow-directors corroborated his
assertion. Often the value of a collection drops so persistently in
the estimate of its possessor that he begins to contemplate exchanging
it for something more up to date or interesting.