a whimsical smile.
"Everything?"

"Almost," admitted Roger. "How did you know?"

[Sidenote: Unfailing Barometer]

"Because you want to be a heathen instead of the foremost lawyer of your
time. Your ambition is an unfailing barometer."

He laughed lightly. This sort of banter was very pleasing to him after a
day with the law books and an hour or more with his mother. He had known
Barbara since they were children and their comradeship dated back to
the mud-pie days.

"I don't know but what you're right," he said. "Whether I go to Congress
or the Fiji Islands may depend, eventually, upon Judge Bascom's liver."

"Don't let it depend upon him," cautioned Barbara. "Make your own
destiny. It was Napoleon, wasn't it, who prided himself upon making his
own circumstances? What would you do--or be--if you could have your
choice?"

[Sidenote: Aspirations]

"The best lawyer in the State," he answered, promptly. "I'd never oppose
the innocent nor defend the guilty. And I'd have money enough to be
comfortable and to make those I love comfortable."

"Would you marry?" she asked, thoughtfully.

"Why--I suppose so. It would seem queer, though."

"Roger," she said, abruptly, "you were born a year and more before I
was, and yet you're fully ten or fifteen years younger."

"Don't take me back too far, Barbara, for I hate milk. Please don't
deprive me of my solid food. What would you do, if you could choose?"

"I'd write a book."

"What kind? Dictionary?"

"No, just a little book. The sort that people who love each other would
choose for a gift. Something that would be given to one who was going
on a long or difficult journey. The one book a woman would take with her
when she was tired and went away to rest. A book with laughter and tears
in it and so much fine courage that it would be given to those who are
in deep trouble. I'd soften the hard hearts, rest the weary ones, and
give the despairing ones new strength to go on. Just a little book, but
so brave and true and sweet and tender that it would bring the sun to
every shady place."

"Would you marry?"

[Sidenote: The Right Man]

"Of course, if the right man came. Otherwise not."

"I wonder," mused Roger, "how a person could know the right one?"

"Foolish child," she answered, "that's it--the knowing. When you don't
know, it isn't it."

"My dear Miss North," remarked Roger, "the heads of your argument are
somewhat involved, but I think I grasp your meaning. Whe