or themselves."

"Yes," said Bessie and Zara, in one breath, eagerly. "We're so anxious
to do that. We mustn't keep on living here and taking charity--"

But the lawyer shook his head vigorously.

"Not right away," he said. "It's just because I'm doing so much guessing
that we mustn't take any chances, Eleanor. You want to keep them close
to you for a while. I spoke about that before Bessie saw our young
friend Hoover, and I think so more than ever now. Don't you see that
they're being spied on already?"

"I certainly do," said Eleanor. "And I just want to do whatever is best
for them. Bessie, you mustn't think you're getting charity when you stay
here. You're here as my guests, and we love to have you--both of you."

"That's right, Bessie," said Jamieson, smiling. "She means that, or she
wouldn't say it. I can tell you you were mighty lucky when you ran into
Eleanor the way you did."

"We know that, Mr. Jamieson; we do, indeed!"

"Nonsense!" said Eleanor, flushing, but not really displeased by the
compliment, which was evidently sincere. "I believe anyone would have
done just what I did."

"I wish I had your faith in human nature, Eleanor, but I haven't and I
know that mighty few people would have been willing to do it, even if
they'd been able. You've got to remember that, too. Lots of people
couldn't have done what you did. Well, I've got to be going."

"You'll call for us tomorrow, though, won't you, Charlie, to take Zara
to see her father?"

"Yes, indeed. I won't fail you. He's looking forward to it, and I've got
an idea, or I hope, at least, that when he finds I've kept my promise
and brought Zara to see him, he'll feel more like trusting me."

"I'm sure he will when I tell him how good you've been to us, Mr.
Jamieson," said Zara.

"Better not tell him about my goodness until I've done something beside
talk, Zara. But I'm going to do my best anyhow, and I'm sure things will
come out right in the end. Just keep smiling, be cheerful, and don't
worry any more than you can help."

From the porch they watched him walk off down the street. He carried
himself like the athlete he was, and his broad shoulders and fine, free
stride were those of a man who inspires confidence and trust, even in
those who only see his back.

"Look!" said Zara, suddenly. "Why is Jake Hoover going down that way?
And isn't he acting queerly?"

"Why, I believe he's following Mr. Jamieson!" said Bessie. "See, he
keeps getting be