d to look at such a face. Sometimes I catch myself thinking
what a long, gay life we ought to have lived together--and I know there's
no wickedness in that. It's more pleasant than bitter."

"So you support the old people," was the listener's sole comment. Not
loss, but fidelity--not grief, but constancy, impressed him while he
hearkened to this story.

"I have adopted them," answered the organist. "Yes, they are mine now.
Just as they were to have been. Just as she and I used to talk it over.
Only she is not here."

"So you support them," repeated Mr. Rush. And he seemed to ponder that
point, as if it involved somewhat beyond his comprehension.

The organist replied, wondering. And he looked at the questioner--but the
questioner looked not at him.

"Yes, certainly," he said.

"I suppose they are moderate in their wants. They don't require suites of
chambers with frescoed ceilings, and walls hung with white satin, rose
color, lavender--and the rest. They don't need a four-story palace, with
carpets of velvet to cover the floors from attic to basement. Do they?"
All the scorn and bitterness expressed in these words the organist happily
could never perceive. But he discerned enough to make him shudder, and he
believed that the speaker was mad.

"I don't think I understand you," he answered, perplexed and cautious. He
feared the effect of his words. But anything that he might say would
produce now one sole result.

"Very likely you don't understand," said Mr. Rush.

"But," said the organist, "I wish I did."

"Why, man?"

"You look so troubled, sir."

"Troubled?"

"As if you--hadn't--tried out the Good Will doctrine. I mean--yes, I do!
that I shouldn't suppose you believed in it," said Summerman, bravely.

Mr. Rush laughed bitterly. "I'll tell you a story," said he.

"No--no--I mean not yet--don't," exclaimed Summerman, quickly.

"Why, it's a short tale. I'm not going to trouble you much longer. A fine
holiday you're having! But you'll never have another like it, I believe.
I--I want your advice before I go. Besides, you have kept to your green,
sunny love so long, I would like to give you a notion of what's going on
the other side of the fence."

"Then we will walk," said Summerman, "if it's agreeable to you, sir, I
mean, of course. I always walk around the lake at this hour." The little
man had put on his overcoat while he spoke, and now stood waiting the
stranger's pleasure, cap in hand.

"Dare you