ave come to ask for your estimate on a
large contract for wall-maps for suburban schools. If you can spare a
half-hour, we can talk it over now, sir, in private. I have a letter
of introduction to you from an old acquaintance. My name is Pennold.'

"'I know.' My father smiled as he spoke, an odd, slow smile which
somehow held no mirth or welcome. 'I noted the family resemblance at
once. A relative of yours was at one time associated with me in
business.'

"The young man laughed shortly.

"You mean my uncle, I guess. He's retired now. Well, Mr. Brunell,
shall we get to business?'

"I left them then, and when I came downstairs from my room, the young
man had gone. Father was standing in the window over there, with a
letter crushed in his hand. He turned when I spoke to him, and, oh,
Guy, if you had seen his face at that moment! I almost cried out in
fear! It was like one of the terrible, despairing faces in Dante's
description of the Inferno. He looked at me blankly as if he scarcely
recognized me; then gradually that awful expression was blotted out,
and his old sweet, sunny smile took its place.

"'Well, little girl!' he said. 'Our Sunday together was spoiled,
wasn't it, by that young fellow's intrusion?'

"'Not spoiled,' I replied, 'if he brought you work.'

"The smile faded from Father's face, and he responded very gravely,
with a curious, halting pause between the words:

"'Yes. He has brought me--work.'

"I forgot all about that episode, in the weeks and months which
followed. Charley Pennold called irregularly. Sometimes he would come
three or four times a week, then again we would not see him for two or
three months. Father was busier than ever in the shop, and, Charley
Pennold's orders must have been very profitable, for we've had more
money in the last two years than ever before, that I can remember. And
yet Father has been melancholy and morose at times, as if he were
brooding over something, and his disposition has changed steadily for
the worse, although in the last few months the difference in his moods
has become more marked. Then, when that letter came he seemed to give
himself wholly up to whatever it is which has obsessed him."

"Emily, will you let me see the letter again?" Morrow asked suddenly.
"If you really care for me, and will be my wife some day, your
troubles and vexations are mine. I want you to let me take the letter
home with me to-night. I feel that if I can study it for a few ho