en able to check himself, but this
was not frequent.

"Why did you do that? Why did you interfere?" he asked abruptly.

"I couldn't stand by and see you make a mess of your life," replied
Charley, "just as things seemed to be going well."

"Going well!" repeated Roger sardonically. "Why, I've been sitting here
for hours, bringing myself to the realization of the fact that my life
is a hopeless mess. I can't trust any one. I can't get help. I can't do
it all alone. I'm going to quit this game and get a job."

"Roger," said Charley slowly, "do you want to know what's the matter
with you, aside from your temper? You're completely work- and
self-centered. You don't take human beings into your calculations at
all. And you won't be a real success until you get to studying and
liking people as well as you do machinery. If you'd given about a tenth
of the thought to Gustav that you have, say, to stopping the leaks in
the condenser, and then if you'd used the same patience with him to-day
that you would to a big leak in the pipes, you'd be farther ahead on
your job and a good deal bigger man. Roger, the more I see of you the
more I'm convinced that your failure is a good deal less the result of
other people's indifference than it is of your own temperamental
peculiarities and weaknesses."

Roger's face flushed again. "What business have you got talking this way
to me?" he blurted out, angrily.

"Every business in the world," returned Charley serenely. "I like you,
and your work is very important. Anything I can do to help get it
across, I'm going to do, regardless of your feelings. I have an idea
that no one has really helped you since your mother died--that is, with
your temper."

The anger died out of Roger's eyes. Once again he seemed to feel that
faint and heavenly touch upon his forehead. It did not seem to him
possible that what this girl said of him was true. And yet there was in
the depths of her steady brown eyes a sort of ageless wisdom that made
him feel awkward and immature. An ageless wisdom, with the sweetness and
purity of the child Felicia's gaze. Lovely drooping lips that were
Felicia's, and yet were, because of their sad patience, not Felicia's,
but belonged to a woman who reminded him of his mother.

Roger continued to stare at Charley as if he never had seen her before.
After a moment he said in a half-whisper, "By Jove, I believe you _are_
a friend to me--with nerve enough to tell me the truth as yo