ilence.

"What do you propose to do?"

"Wait," said Allan, "a few days more. Then try again. If I fail I'm
through." Roger shot a quick look at him.

"I don't think you'll fail, my boy--and what's more I think I can help you.
This is a large house, Allan--there's more in it than you know. My second
point concerns myself. I'm going to die within a year."

As Baird turned on him suddenly, Roger grimly smiled and said, "We won't go
into the details, but I've been examined lately and I have quite positive
knowledge of what I've suspected for some time. So far, I have told no one
but you. And I'm telling you only because of the bearing it has on
Deborah." Roger leaned forward heavily. "She's the one of my daughters who
means the most, now that I'm so near the end. When I die next year that may
be all--I may simply end--a blank, a grave--I am not sure. But I've made up
my mind above everything else to see Deborah happy before I go. And I mean
to do it by setting her free--so free I think it will frighten her."

Roger went on to explain his plan, and they talked together for some time.

* * * * *

Another week had soon gone by. Bruce still recovered rapidly, and the other
sick children were up and about. Deborah, in the meantime, had barely been
in the house at all. But late on Saturday evening Roger found her in her
room. She was working. He came behind her.

"What is it, dad?"

"Busy, eh?" He hesitated, and laid his hand on her shoulder with a little
affectionate pressure. "You've kept so busy lately," he said, "I haven't
had time to see anything of you. How's your work going?"

"Much better, thanks--now that the winter is over."

He questioned her about her schools. And then after a brief pause,

"Well, daughter," he said, "it has been a great fight, and I'm proud of you
for it. And if I've got anything to say--" his hand was still on her
shoulder, and he felt her tighten suddenly--"it isn't by way of
criticism--please be sure of that ahead. In this damnable war my faith in
men has been badly shaken up. Humanity seems to me still a child--a child
who needs to go to school. God knows we need men and women like you--and
I'm proud of all you've accomplished, I'd be the last man to hold you back.
I only want to help you go on--by seeing to it that you are free--from
anything which can hinder you." He stopped again for a moment.

"To begin with," he said, "I understand you're not going