ters from New York, he recognized one as having Mr. Van
Ostend's address on the reverse of the envelope. He tore it open; struck
another match and, the letter being type-written, hastily read it
through with the aid of a third and fourth pocket-lucifer; read it in a
tumult of expectancy, and finished it with an intense and irritating
sense of disappointment. He vehemently voiced his vexation: "Oh, damn it
all!"

He did not take the trouble to return the letter to its cover, but kept
flirting it in his hand as he strode indignantly up the hill, his arms
swinging like a young windmill's. When he came in sight of the house, he
looked up at his mother's bedroom window. Her light was still burning;
despite his admonition she was waiting for him as usual. He must tell
her before he slept.

"Champney!" she called, when she heard him in the hall.

"Yes, mother; may I come up?"

"Of course." She opened wide her bedroom door and stood there, waiting
for him, the lamp in her hand. Her beauty was enhanced by the
loose-flowing cotton wrapper of pale pink. Her dark heavy hair was
braided for the night and coiled again and again, crown fashion, on her
head.

"Aunt Meda never could hold a candle to mother!" was Champney
Googe's thought on entering. The two sat down for the usual
before-turning-in-chat.

He was so full of his subject that it overflowed at once in abrupt
speech.

"Mother, I've had a letter from Mr. Van Ostend--"

"Oh, Champney!" There was the joy of anticipation in her voice.

"Now, mother, don't--don't expect anything," he pleaded, "for you'll be
no end cut up over the whole thing. Now, listen." He read the letter;
the tone of his voice indicated both disgust and indignation.

"Now, look at that!" He burst forth eruptively when he had finished.
"Here we've been banking on an offer for some position in the syndicate,
at least, something that would help clear the road to Wall Street where
I should be able to strike out for myself without being dependent on any
one--I didn't mince matters that day of the dinner when I told him what
I wanted, either! And here I get an offer to go to Europe for five years
and study banking systems and the Lord knows what in London, Paris, and
Berlin, and act as a sort of super in his branch offices. Great Scott!
Does he think a man is going to waste five years of his life in Europe
at a time when twenty-four hours here at home might make a man! He's a
donkey if he thinks that, a