ational fund. You furnish the girl; I
put in the money. I only wish I had the girl to put into the business
instead of the cash."

"But I don't need the money yet; I shan't need it till fall," he
protested.

"That's all right. Fall's pretty close and you'll feel better if you
have it. Now, you may count on more when that's gone if you want it. In
case anything goes wrong with you or me it'll be fixed. I'll attend to
it. I look on it as a good investment. Your note? Look here, Andrew
Kelton, if you mention that life insurance to me again, I'll cut your
acquaintance. You go to bed; and don't you ever let on to that baby
upstairs that I have any hand in her schooling." She dropped her check
book into a drawer and swung round in her swivel chair until she faced
him. "I don't want to open up that affair of Sylvia's mother again, but
there's always the possibility that something may happen. You know
Edna's dead, but there's always a chance that Sylvia's father may turn
up. It's not likely; but there's no telling about such things; and it
wouldn't be quite fair for you to leave her unprepared if it should
happen."

"There's one more circumstance I haven't told you about. It happened
only a few days ago. It was that, in fact, which crystallized my own
ideas about Sylvia's education. A letter was sent to me by a stranger,
offering money for Sylvia's schooling. The whole thing was surrounded
with the utmost secrecy."

"So? Then some one is watching Sylvia; keeping track of her, and must be
kindly disposed from that. You never heard anything before?"

"Never. I was asked to send a verbal answer by the messenger who brought
me the letter, accepting or declining the offer. I declined it."

"That was right. But there's no hiding anything in this world; you must
have some idea where the offer came from."

"I haven't the slightest, not the remotest idea. The messenger was a
stranger to me; from what Sylvia said he was a stranger at Montgomery
and had never seen the college before. Time had begun to soften the
whole thing, and the knowledge that some one has been watching the child
all these years troubles me. It roused all my old resentment; I have
hardly slept since it occurred."

"It's queer; but you'd better try to forget it. Somebody's conscience is
hurting, I reckon. I wouldn't know how to account for it in any other
way. If it's a case of conscience, it may have satisfied itself by
offering money; if it didn't, you or S