en we are as poor as the people for
whom he passes subscription papers, and that's just what I wanted to
see you about."

Barclay took his eyes off Jay Gould's picture long enough to look at
the brown-eyed girl with an oval face and a tip of a chin that just
fitted the hollow of a man's hand; there were the smallest brown
freckles in the world across the bridge of her nose, and under her
eyes there was the faintest suggestion of dark shading. Youth was in
her lips and cheeks, and when she smiled there were dimples. But
John's eyes went back to Jay Gould's solemn black whiskers and he said
from his abstraction, "Well, Molly, I wish I could help you."

"Well, I knew you would, John, some way; and oh, John, I do need help
so badly." She paused a moment and gazed at him piteously and
repeated, "So badly." But his eyes did not move from the sacred
whiskers of his joss. The vision was flaming in his brain, and with
his lips parted, he whistled "The Evening Star" to conjure it back and
keep it with him. The girl went on:--

"About that money Mr. Brownwell loaned father, John." She flushed and
cried, "Can't you find some way for father to borrow the money and pay
Mr. Brownwell--now that your wheat is turning out so well?"

The young man pulled himself out of his day-dream and said,
"Well--why--you see, Molly--I--Well now, to be entirely frank with
you, Molly, I'm going into a business that will take all of my
credit--and every cent of my money."

He paused a moment, and the girl asked, "Tell me, John, will the wheat
straighten things up at the bank?"

"Well, it might if Bob had any sense--but he's got a fool notion of
considering a straight mortgage that those farmers gave on their land
as rent, and isn't going to make them redeem their land,--his share
of it, I mean,--and if he doesn't do that, he'll not have a cent, and
he couldn't lend your father any money." Barclay was anxious to get
back to his "Evening Star" and his dream of power, so he asked, "Why,
Molly, what's wrong?"

"John," she began, "this is a miserable business to talk about; but it
is business, I guess." She stopped and looked at him piteously. "Well,
John, father's debt to Mr. Brownwell--the ten-thousand-dollar loan on
the house--will be due in August." The young man assented. And after
a moment she sighed, "That is why I'm to be married in August." She
stood a moment looking out of the window and cried, "Oh, John, John,
isn't there some way out--isn