e water on the roof grew louder and louder as the evening waxed
old. And out on the hill, out on Lincoln Avenue, the rain descended,
and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that
house--that stately house of a father's pride and--

At ten o'clock John Barclay heard a light footstep and a rattling cane
upon the stair, and Brownwell, a human whirligig of gay gestures, came
tripping into the room. "A pen, a pen,"--he cried, "my kingdom for a
pen." He was tugging at his gloves as he spoke, and in the clatter
that he made, Barclay found the blank note and pushed it toward the
table's edge to Brownwell, who put his ornate copy-book signature upon
it with a flourish.

When he had gone, Barclay wrote a note to Jane telling her of Molly's
engagement to Brownwell, and then he sat posting his books, and
figuring up his accounts. It was after midnight when he limped down
the stairs, and the rain had ceased. But a biting wind like a cruel
fate came out of the north, and he hurried through the deserted
street, under lowering clouds that scurried madly across the stars.
But John Barclay could not look up at the stars, he broke into a
limping run and head downward plunged into the gale. And never in all
his life could he take a square look at Molly Culpepper's diamond
ring.

As the spring deepened Bob Hendricks felt upon him at his work the
pressure of two distinct troubles. One was his sweetheart's attitude
toward him, and the other was the increasing weakness of his father.
Molly Culpepper's letters seemed to be growing sad; also they were
failing in their length and frequency--the young man felt that they
were perfunctory. His father's letters showed a physical breakdown.
His handwriting was unsteady, and often he repeated himself in
successive letters. The sister wrote about her father's weakness, and
seemed to think he was working too hard. But the son suspected that it
was worry rather than work, and that things were not going right in
the bank. He did not know that the Golden Belt Wheat Company had
sapped the money of the bank and had left it a husk, which at any time
might crumble. The father knew this, and after the first of the year
every morning when he opened the bank he feared that day would be the
last day of its career.

And so it fell out that "those that look out of the windows" were
darkened, and General Hendricks rose up with the voice of the bird and
was "afraid of that which was high" and terrors