looked at her, and after a few minutes took me alone into his private
office.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," he said. "I am afraid it isn't teeth. You have a
long, hard fight to make--if it is what I think it is."

Tuberculosis had entered our home. It had come by way of typhoid and
scarlet fevers. The specialist confirmed Doctor Oakman's suspicions, and
our battle began. The little home could serve us no longer. It was not
the place for such a fight for life as we were to make. Marjorie must
have a wide-open sleeping porch; and the house lacked that, nor could
one be built upon it.

And so we found our present home. It was for sale at a price I thought
then I should never be able to pay. We could have it by making a down
payment of seventy-five hundred dollars, the balance to be covered by a
mortgage. But I neither had that much, nor owned securities for even a
small fraction of it.

But I did have a friend: a rich, but generous friend! I told him what I
wanted; and he seemed more grieved at my burden than concerned with my
request. He talked only of Marjorie and her chances; he put his arm
about my shoulders, and I knew he was with me.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"Seventy-five hundred dollars in cash."

He smiled.

"Have a lawyer examine the abstract to the property, and if it is all
right come back to me."

In two days I was back. The title to the house was clear. He smiled
again, and handed me his check for the amount, with not a scratch of
the paper between us.

I suggested something of that sort to him.

"The important thing is to get the house," he said. "When that is done
and you have the deed to it and the papers all fixed up, you come back
and we'll fix up our little matter." And that is how it was done.

So into our present home we moved. We had a bigger and a better and a
costlier dwelling place. We were climbing upward. But we were also
beginning once more with just a house. Just a house--but founded on a
mighty purpose! It was to become home to us, even more dearly loved than
the one we were leaving.

For four years it has grown in our affections. Hope has been ours. We
have lived and laughed and sung and progressed.... But we have also wept
and grieved.

Twice the doctor had said we were to conquer. Then came last spring and
the end of hope. Week after week, Marjorie saw the sunbeams filter
through the windows of her open porch; near by, a pair of robins built
their nest; she watched them a