n these long good-byes.

* * * * *

On a frosty night in September, he left the farm to go to the city. From
his seat in the small automobile Roger looked back at the pleasant old
house with its brightly lighted windows, and then he turned to George by
his side:

"We're in good shape for the winter, son."

But George did not get his full meaning.

At the little station, there were no other passengers. They walked the
platform for some time. Then the train with a scream came around the curve.
A quick grip on George's hand, and Roger climbed into the car. Inside, a
moment later, he looked out through the window. By a trainman with a
lantern, George stood watching, smiling up, and he waved his hand as the
train pulled out.

CHAPTER XXXIX

The next morning on his arrival in town, Roger went to his office. He had
little cause for uneasiness there, for twice in the summer he had come down
to keep an eye on the business, while John had taken brief vacations at a
seaside place nearby. The boy had no color now in his cheeks; as always,
they were a sallow gray with the skin drawn tight over high cheek bones;
his vigor was all in his eyes. But here was a new John, nevertheless, a
successful man of affairs. He had on a spruce new suit of brown, no cheap
ready-made affair but one carefully fitted to conceal and soften his
deformity. He was wearing a bright blue tie and a cornflower in his
buttonhole, and his sandy hair was sleekly brushed. He showed Roger into
his private room, a small place he had partitioned off, where over his desk
was a motto in gold: "This is no place for your troubles or mine."

"Lord, but you've got yourself fixed up fine in here," said Roger. John
smiled broadly. "And you're looking like a new man, Johnny."

"I had a great time at the seashore. Learned to sail a boat alone. What do
you think of this chair of mine?" And John complacently displayed the
ingenious contrivance in front of his desk, somewhat like a bicycle seat.
It was made of steel and leather pads.

"Wonderful," said Roger. "Where'd you ever pick it up?"

"I had it made," was the grave reply. "When a fellow has got up in life
enough to have a stenographer, it's high time he was sitting down."

"Let's see you do it." John sat down. "Now how is business?" Roger asked.

"Great. Since the little slump we had in August it has taken a new
start--and not only war business, at that--the old people are