, and prayed fervently for many minutes. Later, the father
pointed a trembling finger at the initials. "Why," he demanded
querulously, "did they not give the lad his full name?" And to this
natural question Dick had nothing to say.

"It seems," murmured the old man mournfully, "that Mr. Crisp, with all
his kindness, felt that the name should perish also. Well, amen, amen.
Will you give me your arm, sir?"

So, arm in arm, they passed from the pretty garden of sleep. Dick was
really moved, and the impulse stirred within him to make full
confession there and then. But he strangled it, and his jaw grew set
and hard. As yet he was in ignorance of the change in his father's
fortunes. Mr. Carteret assumed none of the outward signs of
prosperity. He wore the clothes of a poor parson, and his talk flowed
along the old channels, a limpid stream not without sparkle, but
babbling of no Pactolian sands. And then, quite suddenly and simply,
he said that he had fallen heir to a large estate, and that he wished
to set aside so much money as a memorial of his son, to be expended as
the experience of the bishop of the diocese might direct.

"You--you are a rich man?" faltered Dick.

"My son, sir, had he lived, would have been heir to five thousand a
year."

Dick gasped, and a lump in his throat stifled speech for a season.
Presently he asked politely the nature of Mr. Carteret's immediate
plans, and learned that he was leaving San Lorenzo for Santa Barbara
on the morrow. Dick had determined not to let his father stray from
his sight till he had seen him safe out of the country, but he told
himself that he must confer with the 'Bishop' at once. The 'Bishop'
must act as go-between; the 'Bishop,' by Jove! should let the cat out
of the bag; the 'Bishop' would gladly colour the facts and obscure the
falsehoods. So he bade his father good-bye, and the old gentleman
thanked him courteously and wished him well. To speak truth, Mr.
Carteret was not particularly impressed with Mr. Cartwright, nor sorry
to take leave of him. Dick soon secured a buggy, and drove off. _En
route_ he whistled gaily, and at intervals burst into song. He
really felt absurdly gay.

The 'Bishop,' however, pulled a long face when he understood what was
demanded of him. "It's too late," said he.

"Do you funk it?" asked Dick angrily.

"I do," replied his reverence.

"Well, he must be told the facts before he goes south."

Dick little knew, as he spoke so authori