was a strong proof of innate selfishness in the individual who was
seeking it for himself alone.

But he let Dora have her way, and why shouldn't he? Indeed, he was
almost sure that she and Harold were falling in love with each other.
Harold was preaching now in a small church on the west side of the city,
and his mother and sisters and Dora were diligent helpers in many ways.

"I'm becoming sure," Mrs. McGwire said, with a smile, one day to John as
they lingered at the breakfast-table after Betty and Dora had left,
"that Dora and Harold are very much in love, and I'm glad of it. A
minister ought to marry early, and your sister, of all girls, is the one
I'd want for him."

"So it is like that, is it?" John said, resignedly. "Well, I have no
objections, I'm sure. I want her to be happy."

CHAPTER II

One evening, shortly after that, Harold came into John's room, saying
that he wanted to speak to him in private. He was slightly above medium
height, quite thin, and attenuated-looking. He wore the black
frock-coat, high, stiff collar, and black necktie of his calling. For a
man of less than twenty-four years of age he certainly was grave and
serious-looking. He was endeavoring to produce a show of whiskers on his
cheeks and chin, but the effort was almost in vain, for the hairs grew
sparsely and were of a color between yellow and light brown that did not
make for density of appearance. However, he was earnest and sincere, and
John liked and trusted him.

"I've been wanting to see you for some time, Mr. Trott," he began,
taking a chair that was vacant near John's and linking his white hands
between his knees. "I don't know what you will think of me, but I've had
the audacity to fall in love with your sister, and, as I look upon you
as her guardian and protector, I felt honor-bound to come to you."

"I see, I see." John had flushed with embarrassment. "Well, the truth
is, Harold, I have been suspecting something of this sort lately, and I
can imagine what you want to say."

Harold had never been one to give in to embarrassment. Life was too
serious and needed too many corrections to justify him in losing time or
emotion in that way, so without change of color, or quickened pulse, he
went on. "I have reason to believe, Mr. Trott, that Dora reciprocates my
feeling, and you may be sure that it has given me great happiness. She
is wrapped up in my work, and I know of no woman who would so readily
adapt herself to