nto down there?"

Words trembled on Peter's lips. Would it be loyal to tell his father--to
tell any one, all the Jacksons' affairs? Nat had told them in confidence
and had not expected they would be passed on to anybody else. No, he
must keep that trust sacred. He must tell no one.

"I can't tell you, Father," he said. "I'll come out all right, though.
Don't worry about me. I've just got to keep on working at the tannery as
hard as I can."

"Are you trying to pay up something?" inquired his father, an
inspiration seizing him.

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Coddington realized that further attempts to get at the truth were
useless, and not a little perturbed he left the room.

All the next day Peter was haunted by reproaches. It took no very keen
vision to detect that his father was worried, and this worry the boy
felt he must relieve. His course lay clearly outlined before him; he
would go to the hospital and ask Nat's permission to tell the entire
story. Much as Peter disliked to speak of what he had done to help the
Jacksons it was far preferable to having his father suffer the present
anxiety.

Accordingly when Saturday afternoon came Peter set forth to make his
appeal to Nat. It was not until he almost reached the hospital that a
new and disconcerting thought complicated the action which but a few
moments before had appeared so simple. How was he to explain to Nat this
intimacy with Mr. Coddington? The president of the company, Nat knew as
well as he, had not been near Peter since he entered the tannery. Why
should young Strong suddenly be venturing to approach this august
personage with his petty troubles? Of course Nat wouldn't
understand--no, nor anybody else for that matter who was unacquainted
with the true situation. Here was a fresh obstacle in Peter's path. What
should he do?

When he entered the ward he struggled bravely to bring his usual
buoyancy to his command; but if the attempt was a sad failure it passed
unnoticed, for the instant he came within sight Nat beckoned to him
excitedly.

"Guess who's been to see me!" cried he, his eyes shining with the wonder
of his tidings. "Guess, Peter! Oh, you never can guess--Mr. Coddington,
the boss himself! Yes, he did," he repeated as he observed Peter's
amazement. "He came this morning and he sat right in that chair--that
very chair where you are sitting now. He wanted to know everything about
the accident, and about you; I had to tell him about Mother and the
ren