s were years that still stood
around him, but that finally they would overpower him and he would
sink to sleep beneath them, as we must all eventually do. I think it
reassured him--but, mamma, I am uneasy about the two old people."

"If the Bishop were here--"

"He would sleep in the house with a shotgun, I fear," laughed Alice.

They were silent at last: "When did you say Richard was coming again,
Alice?"

"To-morrow night--and--and--I hear Clay in his laboratory. I will go
and talk to him before bed time."

She stooped and kissed her mother. To her surprise, she found her
mother's arms around her neck and heard her whisper brokenly:

"Alice--Alice--you could solve it all if you would.
Think--think--what it would mean to me--to all of us--oh, I can stand
this poverty no longer--this fight against that which we cannot
overcome."

She burst into a flood of tears. Never before had Alice seen her show
her emotions over their condition, and it hurt her, stabbed her to
the vital spot of all obedience and love.

With moistened eyes she went into her brother's room.

And Mrs. Westmore wrote a note to Richard Travis. It did not say so
in words but it meant: "_Come and be bold--you have won._"

CHAPTER VIII

A QUESTION BROUGHT HOME

"I shall go to Boston next week to meet the directors of the mill and
give in my annual report."

The three had been sitting in Westmoreland library this Sunday
night--for Richard Travis came regularly every Sunday night, and he
had been talking about the progress of the mill and the great work it
was doing for the poor whites of the valley. "I imagine," he added,
"that they will be pleased with the report this year."

"But are you altogether pleased with it in all its features?" asked
Alice thoughtfully.

"Why, what do you mean, Alice?" asked her mother, surprised.

"Just this, mother, and I have been thinking of talking to Richard
about it for some time."

Travis took his cigar out of his mouth and looked at her quizzically.

She flushed under his gaze and added: "If I wasn't saying what I am
for humanity's sake I would be willing to admit that it was
impertinent on my part. But are you satisfied with the way you work
little children in that mill, Richard, and are you willing to let it
go on without a protest before your directors? You have such a fine
opportunity for good there," she added in all her old beautiful
earnestness.

"Oh, Alice, my dear, that is none of