ld regret
that I hadn't furnished him with a cord and a bag of stones to drop
himself into the dock with."

"I don't know why a teacher or a street-missionary may not be a
gentleman."

"Sure enough, why not? Whatever Walter Monroe is, he will always be a
gentleman."

"Suppose you bring him to see me to-morrow or next day; we will talk
about this."

"I will. Now, good-bye! My regrets to the children that we couldn't
finish our romp."

"Good-bye," said Holworthy. "Come again; the children will be glad to
see you."

CHAPTER XVII.

As Mr. Sandford walked homeward, the streets seemed to close up behind
him; he was shut out from the scenes of his activity, no more to return;
State Street was henceforth for him a thing of memory. He had played his
game there, while admirers and friends watched his far-seeing moves. He
had lost; and now, after checkmate, he must resign his place. How he
struggled against the idea! He could not bring himself to acknowledge
that the past was irretrievable. His spirit seemed in prison, shut in as
by the bars of a dungeon, against which he might tug and rage in vain.

At home, dinner was on the table, waiting for him. As he entered the
hall, he met his sister-in-law. She saw the fatal news in his face, and
with a sinking heart gave him her usual greeting. Marcia took her place
at the table, but with less animation than usual. Charles sat down with
his studied indifference. Each one seemed to be absorbed in separate
spheres of thought, and the courses came on and were removed in painful
silence. At last Mr. Sandford spoke.

"I suppose I need not tell you that it is all over."

"All over!" exclaimed Marcia.

"Yes,--I have failed; so has Fayerweather; so has Stearine."

"Failed?" said Marcia, in an incredulous tone. "I thought it was the
great people,--I mean people in business, or with estates, that failed."

"Well, have I not been in business?"

"Yes,--as secretary, and you have a salary. How can a man with a salary
fail?"

"Quite easily. Suppose the Vortex fails? My salary would stop."

"That isn't failing, is it? Then Pompey might fail, if he didn't get his
pay for brushing your boots."

Mr. Sandford gave a contemptuous look.

"That shows how much you know about business."

"I never did know about your business; nor does anybody, I believe. I
never could understand how, with your little property, you had these
'transactions,' as you call them, where you owed people an