and his blue eyes filled, as he said, impulsively. "Auntie Sue, after
what you have done for me, I--"

She answered quickly: "We are considering the future. What has been, is
past. Our river is already far beyond that point in its journey. Don't
let us try to turn the waters back. I promise you I am going to be very,
very practical, and make you pay for EVERYTHING."

Smiling, now, he waited for her to explain.

"I must tell you, first," she began, "that, except for a very small
amount in the--in a savings bank, I have nothing to provide for my last
days except this little farm."

"What a shame," Brian Kent exclaimed, "that a woman like you can give
her life to the public schools for barely enough salary to keep her
alive during her active years, and then left in her old age with no
means of support. It is a national disgrace."

Auntie Sue chuckled with appreciation of the rather grim humor of the
situation. What would Brian Kent, indignant at the public neglect of the
school-teacher, say of the man who had robbed her of the money that was
to provide for her closing years? "After all, most public sins are only
individual sins at the last," she said, musingly.

"I beg your pardon," said Brian, not in the least seeing the relevancy
of her words.

Auntie Sue came quickly back to her subject: "Only thirty acres of my
little farm is under cultivation. The remaining fifty acres is wild
timberland. If I could have that fifty acres also in cultivation, with
the money that the timber would bring,--which would not be a great
deal,--I would be fairly safe for the--for the rest of my evening," she
finished with a smile. "Do you see?"

"You mean that I--that you want me to stay here and work for you?"

"I mean," she answered, "that, if you choose to stay for awhile, you
need not feel that you would be accepting my hospitality as charity,"
she returned gently. "I am not exactly offering you a job: I am only
showing you how you could, without sacrificing your pride, remain in
this quiet retreat for awhile before returning to the world."

"It would be heaven, Auntie Sue," he returned earnestly. "I want to stay
so bad that I fear myself. Let me think it over until to-morrow. Let me
be sure that I am doing the right thing, and not merely the thing I want
to do."

She liked his answer, and did not mention the subject again until Brian
himself was ready. And, strangely enough, it was poor, twisted Judy who
helped him to set ma