our own way. Not a cent of mine do you ever get."

"I'm glad to hear that," said the man, "for not a cent of yours shall my
wife need."

Into the breach Suzanna strode.

"Oh, but you will need money," she cried as she stood anchoring the baby
by means of an extended arm. "When you're married and you have a big
family you'll have to pay the rent, and you'll have to dress all the
little children, and there'll be insurance week, and something you
haven't thought of all the time, and just when you get on your feet,
there'll be the doctor at your door and his bill pretty soon."

"Exactly," said the Eagle Man, as though by Suzanna's words many of his
contentions had been proved.

"But we shall be together," said little Miss Massey, as though that
beloved truth answered everything. The man had thrown his arms about her
and had drawn her quite close, and she looked up into his face with eyes
that still shone. Oh, how long she had loved him! And how long had it
been since she settled to the realization that though he loved her, he
was proud and would not speak. This spoken love she had craved with all
her heart; and it had been withheld because he had no money and her
father had too much.

"Will you tell me your real objection to me?" asked the man with frank
directness appealing to the Eagle Man. "For that you have had objections
to me I've sensed always."

The Eagle Man turned and looked the younger man over, carefully,
critically, before answering. Indeed, he was so long about speaking that
the children, at least, thought he never meant to speak again.

But at last: "My daughter," he began, "is now thirty-six. She has had
thirty-six years of luxury, of merely raising her finger and receiving
highly trained service. She is not a young girl who might, being more
adaptable and buoyed up by romance, settle down to a new order of life;
she is too used to the luxuries I have been able to give her, servants,
carriages, horses, travel, fine clothes--" he enumerated them all with
distinctness, giving each item a lengthy second before going on to his
conclusion. "It will work real hardship on her to be compelled to give
up all these things to do her own work and to make over her own
dresses."

"You're mistaken, father," Miss Massey denied, "all that giving up, if
giving up you can call it, will be my joy if I can be with Robert." Her
voice, deep with emotion, died into a silence which reigned for moments.
No one seemed to wi