ppearance of a neglected old bachelor."

"Well, he isn't. He has a wife and seven children back in Tennessee--so
he says."

"Fred," said Florence, sharply, "I hope you aren't playing off on these
partners of yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean--letting them do all the hard and disagreeable work."

Kelley interposed. "Don't you worry about us, miss. We aren't
complaining. We can't do the part he does. He does all the buying and
selling--and--correspondence--and the like of that. But come, it's
pretty near noon. I reckon we'd better drift along to Mrs. Finnegan's.
The first table is bad enough in our boarding-place."

Again Fred took his mother and left Kelley to lead the way with
Florence.

"Now, Mr. Kelley," began the girl, "I must tell you that I don't believe
my brother has a thing to do with this mine except to divide the
profits. Furthermore, you are trying to cover something up from me.
You're doing it very well, but you've made one or two little 'catches'
which have disturbed me. My brother has never mentioned you or Hank in
his letters, and that's unnatural. He told us he was interested in a
mine which was paying one hundred and fifty dollars a month. Now, why
did he say that? I'll tell you why. It's because you pay him a salary
and he's not really a partner." She paused to watch his face, then went
on. "Now what does he do--what can he do to earn five dollars per day?
His palms are as soft as silk--the only callous is on his right
forefinger."

Kelley's face, schooled to impassivity, remained unchanged, but his eyes
shifted. His astonishment was too great to be entirely concealed.
"There's a whole lot of running--and figuring--and so on."

"Not with that little mine. Why, you can't employ more than five men!"

"Six," corrected Kelley, proudly.

"Well, six. You can't afford to pay my brother five dollars a day just
to run errands and keep accounts for these six men. You're fooling him.
You're paying him a salary out of sheer good nature because you like
him. Deny it if you can!"

Kelley looked back to see that Fred was well out of earshot. "He _is_
mighty good company," he admitted.

"There!" she exclaimed, triumphantly. "You can't fool me. I knew there
was something queer about this whole arrangement." Then her voice
changed. "It's very, very kind of you, Mr. Kelley, and I deeply
appreciate it, and if you don't want me to do it--I will not let mother
into our secret."

"What's the use? He's