sk nothing in God's name, and surely nothing in my own. I knew
that this would put you out, and I dreaded it, but it had to come.
Suppose that at my age the opportunity to manage a cattle ranch had
been offered you."

"I would have taken it; I would have made it the biggest cattle ranch
in the country. It galls me, sir, it galls me to see my own children
sticking up their noses at honest employment."

"Pardon me, but so far as I am concerned you are wrong. I seek honest
employment. But what is the most honest employment? Any employment
that yields an income? No; but the work that one is best fitted for
and which is therefore the most satisfactory. If you had shaped my
early life"--

"Andrew was a fool!" Witherspoon broke in. "He was crazy."

"But he was something of a gentleman, sir."

"Gentleman!" Witherspoon snorted; "he was the worst of all thieves--a
child-stealer."

"And had you been entirely blameless, sir?"

"What! and do you reproach me? Now look here." He pointed a shaking
finger at Henry. "Don't you ever hint at such a thing again. My God,
this is disgraceful!" he muttered, resuming his uneven walk. "My hopes
were so built up. Now you knock them down. What the devil do you
want, sir!" he exclaimed, wheeling about.

"I will tell you if you will listen."

"Oh, yes, of course you will. It will no doubt do you great good to
humiliate me."

"When you feel, sir, that I am humiliating you, one word is all you
need to say."

"What's that? Come now, no foolish threats. What is it you want to
do?"

"I have an idea," Henry answered, "that I could manage a newspaper."

"The devil you have."

"Yes, the devil I have, if you insist. I am a newspaper man and I like
the work. It holds a fascination for me while everything else is dull.
Now, I have a proposal to make, not a modest one, perhaps, but one
which I hope you will patiently consider--if you can. It would be easy
for you to get control of some afternoon newspaper. I can take charge
of it, and in time pay back the money you invest. I don't ask you to
give me a cent."

The merchant was about to reply, when Mrs. Witherspoon entered the
room. "Why, what is the matter?" she asked.

Witherspoon resumed his seat, shoved his hands deep into his pockets,
stretched forth his legs, crossed his feet and nervously shook them.

"What is the matter?" she repeated.

"Everything's the matter," Witherspoon declared. "I have
suggested"--he didn't say demanded--"t