e kept
clearing his throat. Sue must have guessed and prepared him. In his room
he fussed about, grunted hard over getting off his shoes and, finding
his slippers, then lay back on his sofa with his hands behind his head
and uttered an explosive sigh.

"All right, son, now fire ahead," he said jocosely. I loved him at that
moment.

"You know Eleanore Dillon," I began.

"She turned you down!"

"No! She took me!"

"The devil you say!" He sat bolt upright, staring. "Well, my boy, I'm
very glad," he said thickly. His eyes were moist. "I'm glad--glad! She's
a fine girl--strong character--strong! I wish your poor mother were
alive--she'd be happy--this girl will make a good wife--you must bring
her right here to live with us!"

And so he talked on, his voice trembling. Then out of his confusion rose
the money question, and at once his mind grew clear. And to my surprise
he urged me to lose no time in looking around for "some good, steady
position" in a magazine office. My writing I could do at night.

"It's so uncertain at best," he said. "It's nothing you can count on.
And you've got to think of a wife and children. _Her_ father has no
money saved."

I found he'd been looking Dillon up, and this jarred on me horribly. But
still worse was his lack of faith in my writing. I was making four
hundred dollars a month, and it was a most unpleasant jolt to have it
taken so lightly.

I went down to Sue. As I came into the living room she met me suddenly
at the door. In a moment her arms were about my neck and she was saying
softly:

"I know what it is, dear, and I'm glad--I'm awfully glad. If I've been
horrid about it ever, please forgive me. I'm sure now it's just the life
you want!"

And that evening, while Dad slept in his chair, Sue and I had a long
affectionate talk. We drew closer than we had been for months. She was
eager to hear everything, she wanted to know all our plans. When I tried
at last to turn our talk to herself and our affairs at home, at first
she would not hear to it.

"My dear boy," she said affectionately, "you've had these worries long
enough. You're to run along now and be happy and leave this house to Dad
and me."

I slipped my arm around her:

"Look here, Sis, let's see this right. You can't run here on what Dad
earns, and if you try to work yourself you'll only hurt him terribly. My
idea is to help as before, without letting him know that I'm doing it.
Make him think you've cut expense