Don't you
believe in a man's knowing how to earn his salt, no matter how much
money his father's got? Hasn't the business of this world got to be
carried on by everybody in it? Are we going to lay back on what we've
got and see other fellows get ahead of us? If we've got big things
already, isn't it every man's business to go ahead and make 'em bigger?
Isn't it his duty? Don't we always want to get bigger and bigger?"

"Ye-es--I don't know. But I feel rather sorry for your brother. He
looked so lonely--and sick."

"He's gettin' better every day," Jim said. "Dr. Gurney says so. There's
nothing much the matter with him, really--it's nine-tenths imaginary.
'Nerves'! People that are willing to be busy don't have nervous
diseases, because they don't have time to imagine 'em."

"You mean his trouble is really mental?"

"Oh, he's not a lunatic," said Jim. "He's just queer. Sometimes he'll
say something right bright, but half the time what he says is 'way off
the subject, or else there isn't any sense to it at all. For instance,
the other day I heard him talkin' to one of the darkies in the hall. The
darky asked him what time he wanted the car for his drive, and anybody
else in the world would have just said what time they DID want it, and
that would have been all there was to it; but here's what Bibbs says,
and I heard him with my own ears. 'What time do I want the car?' he
says. 'Well, now, that depends--that depends,' he says. He talks slow
like that, you know. 'I'll tell you what time I want the car, George,'
he says, 'if you'll tell ME what you think of this statue!' That's
exactly his words! Asked the darky what he thought of that Arab Edith
and mother bought for the hall!"

Mary pondered upon this. "He might have been in fun, perhaps," she
suggested.

"Askin' a darky what he thought of a piece of statuary--of a work
of art! Where on earth would be the fun of that? No, you're just
kind-hearted--and that's the way you OUGHT to be, of course--"

"Thank you, Mr. Sheridan!" she laughed.

"See here!" he cried. "Isn't there any way for us to get over this
Mister and Miss thing? A month's got thirty-one days in it; I've managed
to be with you a part of pretty near all the thirty-one, and I think you
know how I feel by this time--"

She looked panic-stricken immediately. "Oh, no," she protested, quickly.
"No, I don't, and--"

"Yes, you do," he said, and his voice shook a little. "You couldn't help
knowing."

"But