well, and she liked it.

Meanwhile the men above-stairs lingered in the Colonel's office--the
older one perturbed and sputtering, the younger insistent and
imperturbable.

"The fact is, father," he was saying, "as you yourself have said, one
bad crop of cotton would almost ruin us."

"But the prospects are good."

"What are prospects in March? No, father, this is the situation--three
good crops in succession will wipe off our indebtedness and leave us
facing only low prices and a scarcity of niggers; on the other hand--"
The father interrupted impatiently.

"Yes, on the other hand, if we plunge deeper in debt and betray our
friends we may come out millionaires or--paupers."

"Precisely," said Harry Cresswell, calmly. "Now, our plan is to take no
chances; I propose going North and looking into this matter thoroughly.
If he represents money and has money, and if the trust has really got
the grip he says it has, why, it's a case of crush or get crushed, and
we'll have to join them on their own terms. If he's bluffing, or the
thing looks weak, we'll wait."

It all ended as matters usually did end, in Harry's having his way. He
came downstairs, expecting, indeed, rather hoping, to find Taylor
impatiently striding to and fro, watch in hand; but here he was,
ungainly, it might be, but quite docile, drawing the picture of a
power-loom for Miss Cresswell, who seemed really interested. Harry
silently surveyed them from the door, and his face lighted with a new
thought.

Taylor, espying him, leapt to his feet and hauled out his watch.

"Well--I--" he began lamely.

"No, you weren't either," interrupted Harry, with a laugh that was
unmistakably cordial and friendly. "You had quite forgotten what you
were waiting for--isn't that so, Sis?"

Helen regarded her brother through her veiling lashes: what meant this
sudden assumption of warmth and amiability?

"No, indeed; he was raging with impatience," she returned.

"Why, Miss Cresswell, I--I--" John Taylor forsook social amenities and
pulled himself together. "Well," shortly, "now for that talk--ready?"
And quite forgetting Miss Cresswell, he bolted into the parlor.

"The decision we have come to is this," said Harry Cresswell. "We are in
debt, as you know."

"Forty-nine thousand, seven hundred and forty-two dollars and twelve
cents," responded Taylor; "in three notes, due in twelve, twenty-four,
and thirty-six months, interest at eight per cent, held by--"

The Co