ad grown to manhood in their
service, and he had no further hope for the future, save to remain in
his present position by strict application, proving himself worthy of a
greater opportunity if the head cashier ever chose to retire.

He lived in the utmost simplicity, was frugal, dressed with unusual
plainness, and put by money.

He hadn't a relative on earth, save his handsome, debonair cousin, who
never sought him out save when he wanted to borrow money of him.

Clint Kendale's salary was fifty dollars per week, but that did not go
far toward paying his bills at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, keeping a fast
horse and giving wine suppers. In his early youth he had begun the pace
he was now going. He had received a fine collegiate education, and at
his majority stepped into the magnificent fortune his parents had left
him. It took him just one year to run through it, then, penniless, he
came from Boston to New York and sought out his poor cousin. Lester
Armstrong succeeded in getting a position for Kendale with the same firm
with which he was employed, but at the end of the first week Clinton
Kendale threw it up with disgust, declaring that what he had gone
through these six days was too much for him. He had rather die than
work.

He borrowed a hundred dollars from his Cousin Lester and suddenly
disappeared. When he was next heard from he blossomed out, astonishing
all New York as the handsomest society actor who had ever graced the
metropolitan boards, and caused a furore.

There was another great difference between the two cousins, and that was
a heart; just one of them possessed it, and that one was Lester
Armstrong.

On this particular afternoon Kendale had lain in wait for his cousin at
the entrance of Marsh & Co.'s to waylay him when he came from the
office. He must see him, he told himself, and Lester must let him have
another loan.

Lester Armstrong was glad from the bottom of his true, honest heart to
see him, but his brow clouded over with a troubled expression when he
learned that he wanted to borrow five hundred dollars. That amount
seemed small, indeed, to the lordly Kendale, but to Lester it meant
months of toil and rigid self-denial.

"Come into the cafe, and while we lunch I will explain to you why I must
have it, old fellow," said Kendale, always ready with some plausible
story on his glib tongue.

"Haven't time now," declared Armstrong. "I must catch the five-twenty
train from the Grand Central De