overhauled him, Barclay
was annoyed. He was not the man to have his purposes crossed, even
when they were whims.

"I was just coming over to the mill to see you," said the general, as
he halted in Barclay's path.

"All right, General--all right; what can I do for you?"

The general was as blunt a man as John Barclay. If Barclay desired no
beating around the bush, the general would go the heart of matters. So
he said, "I want to talk about Neal with you."

Barclay knew that certain things must be said, and the two men sat in
a stone seat in the bridge wall, with the sun upon them, to talk it
out then and there. "Well, General, we like Neal--we like him
thoroughly. And we are glad, Jane and I, and my mother too--she likes
him; and I want to do something for him. That's about all there is to
say."

"Yes, but what, John Barclay--what?" exclaimed the general. "That's
what I want to know. What are you going to do for him? Make him a
devil worshipper?"

"Well now, General, here--don't be too fast," Barclay smiled and
drawled. He put his hands on the warm rocks at his sides and flapped
them like wing-tips as he went on: "Jeanette and Neal have their own
lives to live. They're sensible--unusually sensible. We didn't steal
Neal, any more than you stole Jeanette, General, and--"

"Oh, I understand that, John; that isn't the point," broke in the
general. "But now that you've got him, what are you going to do with
him? Can't you see, John, he's my boy, and that I have a right to
know?"

"Now, General, will you let me do a little of this talking?" asked
Barclay, impatiently. "As I was saying, Jeanette and Neal are
sensible, and money isn't going to make fools of them. When the time
comes and I'm gone, they'll take the divine responsibility--"

"The divine tommyrot!" cried the general; "the divine fiddlesticks!
Why should they? What have they done that they should have that thrust
upon them like a curse; in God's name, John Barclay, why should my
Neal have to have that blot upon his soul? Can't they be free and
independent?"

Barclay did not answer; he looked glumly at the floor, and kicked the
cement with his heel. "What would you have them do with the money when
they get it," he growled, "burn it?"

"Why not?" snapped the general.

"Oh--I just thought I'd ask," responded Barclay.

The two men sat in silence. Barclay regarded conversation with the
general in that mood as arguing with a lunatic. Presently he rose, an