id of a position of that kind--afraid it would
be too big."

"The company would expect you to earn it, of course," impassively.

"But I'm not worth it. I know that and I don't want to accept under false
representations. It's beyond me."

"Beyond nothing!" curtly. "If I say you're worth it, you are. I'll make
you so--help if necessary. Do you accept?"

"Accept, yes, and thank you. I won't protest, or presume to misunderstand
your intent in offering it to me. I realize you're giving me a chance to
make good where I failed to fulfil my obligation with Margery." The voice
was not so steady as it might have been and for an instant Randall
halted. "If you don't mind, though," he went on, "I'd like to ask you a
question. I can't conceive why you, a stranger, practically, should do
all this for me. I'm simply confused, it's all so unprecedented. Why do
you do it, please?"

Into Darley Roberts' eyes crept the old odd smile that spread no
farther.

"You mean it's all so unprecedented--of me," he returned bluntly.

Randall said nothing. It was true.

"Wasn't that what you meant?" he repeated, and just for a second the
smile crept beyond the eyes.

"Yes. It's useless to lie."

"--To me?"

This time Randall's face flamed undeniably.

"Yes--to you," he admitted. "You're positively uncanny."

"Don't do it then," shortly, "ever. To answer your question: The main
reason, I think, is because to-day is December the sixth--a holiday."

"A holiday!" Randall stared, as in the morning Herbert had stared.

"With me.... Another reason is that I've been an under dog myself for a
very long time and--perhaps, though, I am mistaken."

"No, I'm one of the breed unquestionably."

"And under dogs have a fondness for each other instinctively."

Randall held his peace. He had the quality of presentiment and it was
active now.

"There was still a third reason." No smile in the blue eyes now, just an
impassive blank. "I had a call a few days ago from an upper dog, by
heredity. He offered me a thousand dollars cold not to do--what I've just
done."

Randall was not a good gambler. His face whitened to the lips.

"You refer to Margery's father," he said.

"Yes. It seemed to me well, under the circumstances, for you to know. He
was strongly in favor of letting matters drift. I gathered he has never
been particularly fond of you."

"No, never. But Margery--"

"I understand absolutely. Take this for what it is worth from a
disint