ng for the next few days about the capital
difficulties. She could think of only one thing to do and, despite old
Admiral Page's fighting blood, she shrank from doing it. But one
night she found Leicester with his head down on his books and--no, it
couldn't be tears in his eyes, because Leicester laughed scornfully at
the insinuation.

"I wouldn't cry over it, Dorinda; I hope I'm more of a man than
_that_. But I do really feel rather cut up because I've no chance of
getting to college. And I hate the thought of going into a store. But
I know I must for Mother's sake, and I mean to pitch in and like it in
spite of myself when the time comes. Only--only--"

And then Leicester got up and whistled and went to the window and
stood with his back to Dorinda.

"That settles it," said Dorinda out loud, as she brushed her hair
before the glass that night. "I'll do it."

"Do what?" asked Jean from the bed.

"A desperate deed," said Dorinda solemnly, and that was all she would
say.

Next day Mrs. Page and Leicester went to town on business. In the
afternoon Dorinda put on her best dress and hat and started out.
Admiral Page's fighting blood was glowing in her cheeks as she walked
briskly up the hill road, but her heart beat in an odd fashion.

"I wonder if I am a little scared, 'way down deep," said Dorinda. "I
believe I am. But I'm going to do it for all that, and the scareder I
get the more I'll do it."

Oaklawn, where Uncle Eugene lived, was two miles away. It was a fine
old place in beautiful grounds. But Dorinda did not quail before its
splendours; nor did her heart fail her, even after she had rung the
bell and had been shown by a maid into a very handsome parlour, but it
still continued to beat in that queer fashion halfway up her throat.

Presently Uncle Eugene came in, a tall, black-eyed old man, with a
fine head of silver hair that should have framed a ruddy, benevolent
face, instead of Uncle Eugene's hard-lipped, bushy-browed
countenance.

Dorinda stood up, dusky and crimson, with brave, glowing eyes. Uncle
Eugene looked at her sharply.

"Who are you?" he said bluntly.

"I am your niece, Dorinda Page," said Dorinda steadily.

"And what does my niece, Dorinda Page, want with me?" demanded Uncle
Eugene, motioning to her to sit down and sitting down himself. But
Dorinda remained standing. It is easier to fight on your feet.

"I want you to do four things, Uncle Eugene," she said, as calmly as
if she were