erstands what?"

"Oh, don't pretend! We know our Thorpe by this time. He's a cutlet-
for-a-cutlet fellow. What do I say? A cutlet-for-a-baron-of-beef
gentleman. Hang him!"

"But Angela----"

"Angela is a reckless little idiot. She's been starving for a lark,
and she's swallowed it without counting the cost."

"But I trust her," said I; "and Jim is here."

Ajax shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

Next day, at the races, Jim attached himself to us, while aloft in the
grand-stand Angela sat with Thorpe: the handsomest couple at the Fair.
For the moment, at any rate, Angela was enjoying herself; Jim, on the
other hand, looked miserable. Contrast had discoloured the good time.
He couldn't snatch pleasure out of the present because he saw so
plainly the future.

"I'm a wet blanket," he said dolefully. "Every time Angela laughs I
want to cry, and yet I ought to be thankful that old Thorpe can give
her what I can't."

"He's doing the thing well," said Ajax meaningly.

"He has been left a bit more money. Didn't he tell you? No? And he's
going to buy that big tract to the north-west of us. Mum's the word,
but--between ourselves--the agreement is signed."

"Oh!" said Ajax.

The big tract in question belonged to a bank, whose president, a very
good fellow, was our particular friend. Early next morning I paid him
a visit. Almost immediately he asked me questions about Thorpe, which
I was able to answer satisfactorily from a business point of view.

"Mr. Thorpe struck me as a very shrewd young man. He'll get there."

"He played football for England."

"Ah! Well, indirectly, I suppose, we can thank you for this deal."

"You can thank Jim Misterton and his wife."

"I have not the pleasure of knowing them. They had something to do
with this, eh?"

"Everything."

The president frowned; his voice was not quite so pleasant as he
said--

"Are they likely to claim a commission?"

"Certainly not. All the same, something is due. Without the Mistertons
you would never have sold this ranch to Thorpe. One moment. It is in
your power to do these people a service, and it will cost you nothing.
Jim Misterton was a clerk in London, and a capable one, but his health
broke down. He came out here to the brush-hills. He got back his
health, but he's lost everything else. Give him a place in this bank.
He's straight as a string, and he knows his work."

Before I left the bank it was understood that Jim was to call upon the