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newest clothes; his boots were polished; and his hair, already somewhat gray, was carefully brushed. "What is it, Jamie? Have you come for a vacation?" said Mr. Bowdoin. "Vacation!" sniffed Jamie. Once, many years before, he had been given a week off, and had gone to Nantasket; but his principal diversion had been to take the morning steamboat thence to the city, and gaze into the office windows from the wharf. "It is something about pretty Miss Sadie, I'll be bound." "You are always right, sir," said Jamie quietly. His eyes were very bright; he was almost young-looking; and his manner had a certain dignity. "And I beg you, sir, for leave to ask your judgment." Mr. Bowdoin motioned Jamie to a chair. And it marked his curious sense that he was treating as man to man that for the first and only time within that office Jamie took it. "Mercedes." Jamie lingered lovingly over the name. "I have tried my best, sir. I have made her--nay, she was one--like a lady. You would not let her marry Master Harley." "I never"--the old gentleman interrupted. Jamie waved his hand. "They would not, I mean, sir. She will not marry John Hughson. You are a gentleman, sir, and could tell me if I--would be taking an unfair advantage--if I asked her--to marry--me. I am sure--I love her enough." Jamie dropped his voice quickly on the last words, so that they were inaudible to Mr. James Bowdoin, who had suddenly laughed. Old Mr. Bowdoin turned angrily upon his son. But Jamie's face had turned to white. He rose respectfully. "Don't say anything, sir. I have had my answer." "Forgive me, Mr. McMurtagh," said James Bowdoin the younger. "I'm sure she could not have a kinder husband. But"-- "Don't explain, Mr. James." "But--after all, why not ask her?" "Nay, nay," said Jamie, "I'll not ask the child. I would not have her make a mistake, as I see it would be." "But, Jamie," said Mr. James kindly, "what will you do? She can hardly go on living in your home." "Not in my home? Where else has the child a home?" There are certain male natures that fight crying. An enemy who looks straight at you with tears in his eyes is not to be contended with. And Jamie stood there, blushing fiery red, with flashing eyes, and tears streaming down his cheeks. "James Bowdoin, you're a d----d fool!" sputtered his irate sire. "You talk as your wife might talk. This is an affair of men. Jamie," he added very gently, "you are quite righ
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