rough the shady country lanes.

"Phebe is old," apologized Frances. "She really is a retired car
horse."

"You used to take pride in your horses, Frances?"

"Yes." Mrs. Waldeaux added after a pause. "My income is small. Of
course George soon will be coining money, but just now---- The peach
crop failed this year too. And I save every dollar for Jack's
education."

"But what of the jokes for the New York paper? They were profitable."

"Oh, I gave them up long ago." She glanced around cautiously. "Never
speak of that, Clara. I would not have George know for the world; I
never would hold up my head if he knew that I was 'Quigg.'"

Miss Vance gave a contemptuous sniff, but Mrs. Waldeaux went on
eagerly, "I have a plan! You know that swampy tract of ours near
Lewes? When I have enough money I'll drain it and lay out a summer
resort--hotels--cottages. I'll develop it as I sell the lots. Oh,
Jack shall have his millions yet to do great work in the world!" her
eyes sparkling. "Though perhaps he may choose to strip himself of
everything to give to the poor, like Francis d'Assisi! That would be
best of all. It's not unlikely. He is the most generous boy!"

"Stuff!" said Miss Vance. "St. Francis, indeed! I observe, by the
way, that he crosses himself after his meals. Are you making a
Romanist of the child? And you speak French to him, too?"

Mrs. Waldeaux's color rose. "His mother was French and Catholic," she
said. "I will not have Lisa forgotten."

They went on in silence. Miss Vance was lost in thought. Was George
Waldeaux equally eager to keep his wife's memory alive? Now that the
conceit had been beaten out of him, he would not make a bad husband.
And her child Lucy had always--esteemed him highly.

CHAPTER XVIII

The next day was Sunday. George jumped out of bed with the dawn. He
whistled and sang scraps of songs as he took his bath. The sun shone.
What a full, happy world it was, anyhow! And he had given up the game
last night? Why, life was just beginning for him! He was nothing but
a boy--not yet thirty. He would make a big success soon, and then try
to win--to win---- He stopped, breathless, looking into the distance,
and his eyes slowly grew wet with passion and longing.

He left the house and struck across the country through the woodland
and farms. He did not know why he went--he had to go. When he reached
the Dunbar woods, he stood in the thicket for hours, watc