planation. Stuyvesant's apparent indifference
irritated him.

"That was a year ago," Don resumed. "To-day I'm drawing the same
salary I started with--twelve hundred. I expect a raise soon--perhaps
to twenty-five hundred. But the point is this: I figure that it's
going to take me some five years to get that ten thousand. I don't
want to wait that long before marrying Frances. Another point is this:
I don't think any longer that it's necessary. I figure that we can
live on what I'm earning now. So I've put it up to her."

Don had hurried his argument a little, but, as far as he was
concerned, he was through. The whole situation was distasteful to
him. The longer he stayed here, the less it seemed to be any of
Stuyvesant's business.

"You mean you've asked my daughter to marry you on that salary?"
inquired Stuyvesant.

"I asked her this afternoon," nodded Don. "I suggested that we get
married to-morrow or next day. You see, I'm on my vacation, and I have
only two weeks."

Stuyvesant flicked the ashes from his cigar. "What was her reply?"

"She wanted me to put the proposition before you. That's why I'm
here."

"I see. And just what do you expect of me?"

"I suppose she wants your consent," answered Don. "Anyhow, it seemed
only decent to let you know."

Stuyvesant was beginning to chew the end of his cigar--a bit of
nervousness he had not been guilty of for twenty years. "At least, it
would have been rather indecent not to have informed me," he answered.
"But, of course, you don't expect my consent to such an act of
idiocy."

It was Don's turn to remain silent.

"I've no objection to you personally," Stuyvesant began. "When you
came to me and asked for my daughter's hand, and I found that she
wanted to marry you, I gave my consent. I knew your blood, Pendleton,
and I'd seen enough of you to believe you clean and straight. At that
time also I had every reason to believe that you were to have a
sufficient income to support the girl properly. If she had wanted to
marry you within the next month, I wouldn't have said a word at that
time. When I learned that conditions had been changed by the terms of
your father's will, I waited to see what you would do. And I'll tell
you frankly, I like the way you've handled the situation up to now."

"I don't get that last," Don answered quietly.

"Then let me help you," Stuyvesant resumed grimly. "In the first
place, get that love-in-a-cottage idea out of your head. It's a