given the man.

* * * * *

One last piece of news concerning Billy Burgeman came to Patsy before
she left Arden that afternoon. Gregory Jessup was at the station to
see her off, and he took her aside for the few minutes before the
train arrived.

"I tried to get Billy to join me--knew it would do him good to meet
you; but he wouldn't budge. I rather think he's still a trifle sore
on girls. Nothing personal, you understand?"

Patsy certainly did--far better than his friend knew. In her heart
she was trying her best to be interested and grateful to the Rich
Man's Son for his unconscious part in her happiness. Had it not been
for him there would have been no quest, no road; and without the road
there would have been no tinker; and without the tinker, no
happiness. It was none the less hard to be interested, however, now
that her mind had given over the lonely occupation of contemplating
memories for that most magical of all mental crafts--future-building.
She jerked up her attention sharply as Gregory Jessup began speaking
again.

"Billy told me just before I came down why he had gone away; and I
wanted to tell you. I don't know how much you know about the old
man's reputation, but he was credited with being the hardest master
with his men that you could find either side of the water. In the
beginning he made his money by screwing down the wages and unscrewing
the labor--and no sentiment. That was his slogan. Whether he kept it
up from habit or pure cussedness I can't tell, but that's the real
reason Billy would never go into his father's business--he couldn't
stand his meanness. The old man's secretary forged a check for ten
thousand; Billy caught him and cashed it himself--to save the man. He
shouldered the guilt so his father wouldn't suspect the man and hound
him."

"I know," said Patsy, forgetting that she was supposed to know
nothing. "But why in the name of all the saints did the secretary
want to forge a check?"

"Why does any one forge? He needs money. When Billy caught him the
old fellow went all to pieces and told a pretty tough story. You see,
he'd been Burgeman's secretary for almost twenty years, given him the
best years of his life--slaved for him--lied for him--made money for
him. Billy said his father regarded him as an excellent piece of
office machinery, and treated him as if he were nothing more. The
poor chap had always had hard luck; a delicate wife, three or f