much to alienate.

When Mr. Flint arrived, fresh as usual in spite of the work he had
accomplished and the cigars he had smoked the night before, Mr.
Worthington still had the letter in his hand, and was pacing his library
floor, and broke into a tirade against his son.

"After all I have done for him, building up for him a position and a
fortune that is only surpassed by young Duncan's, to treat me in this
way, to drag down the name of Worthington in the mire. I'll never
forgive him. I'll send for Dixon and leave the money for a hospital in
Brampton. Can't you suggest any way out of this, Flint?"

"No," said Flint, "not now. The only chance you have is to ignore the
thing from now on. He may get tired of her--I've known such things to
happen."

"When she hears that I've disinherited him, she will get tired of him,"
declared Mr. Worthington.

"Try it and see, if you like," said Flint.

"Look here, Flint, if the woman has a spark of decent feeling, as you
seem to think, I'll send for her and tell her that she will ruin
Robert if she marries him." Mr. Worthington always spoke of his son as
"Robert."

"You ought to have thought of that before the mass meeting. Perhaps it
would have done some good then."

"Because this Penniman woman has stirred people up--is that what you
mean? I don't care anything about that. Money counts in the long run."

"If money counted with this school-teacher, it would be a simple matter.
I think you'll find it doesn't."

"I've known you to make some serious mistakes," snapped Mr. Worthington.

"Then why do you ask for my advice?"

"I'll send for her, and appeal to her better nature," said Mr.
Worthington, with an unconscious and sublime irony.

Flint gave no sign that he heard. Mr. Worthington seated himself at
his desk, and after some thought wrote on a piece of note-paper the
following lines: "My dear Miss Wetherell, I should be greatly obliged if
you would find it convenient to call at my house at eight o'clock this
evening," and signed them, "Sincerely Yours." He sealed them up in an
envelope and addressed it to Miss Wetherell, at the schoolhouse; and
handed it to Mr. Flint. That gentleman got as far as the door, and then
he hesitated and turned.

"There is just one way out of this for you, that I can see, Mr.
Worthington," he said. "It's a desperate measure, but it's worth
thinking about."

"What's that?"

It took some courage for Mr. Flint, to make the suggestion. "The