that Barbara Parker learned the truth
about her gallant suitor. The next time Tom Parker came into the bank
Henry called him into his private office and had a talk with him.

Old Tom listened silently; nevertheless, it was plain that he was
deeply shocked.

"I s'pose you ain't lyin'," he said, coldly, when the banker had
finished.

"It's a matter of record, Tom. He can't deny it."

"Why did you--hold off so long?"

"We're not exactly friends. He foolishly believes that I had something
to do with his disgrace, and he has done his best to injure me. Under
the circumstances, I couldn't very well say anything. I wouldn't speak
now, except for the fact that 'Bob' is interested in him and--well, I'm
interested in 'Bob.'"

"She's been interested in him from the first. I don't see that the
circumstances are much different than they have been," Tom said, sourly.

"Put it down to jealousy, if you wish." Henry was impatient.

"And I don't know as 'Bob' ever encouraged you to think--"

"Perhaps not. But she is the only woman I ever saw that I'd make Mrs.
Nelson."

"What was it he did?"

"'Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman' is the way the record
stands. That covers a lot."

"Did he welch--quit under fire?"

"No."

"Steal something?"

"No."

"Woman scrape?"

"There was--a woman concerned. Pretty nasty mess, Tom. He's the sort of
man to intrigue any foolish woman. Women can't see far."

"I s'pose so." Mr. Parker rose stiffly. "But we don't have to worry
about 'Bob.' She ain't foolish and her eyesight is good. She's got more
sense than all three of us men." With this noncommittal remark the
father limped out.

But Tom was more deeply troubled than he had shown. Nothing to be said
against a man could have weighed more heavily with him than this
particular charge. To a man of his type dereliction of duty was a
crime; dishonorable discharge from the army of his country was an
appalling indictment implying utter moral turpitude. Tom had known more
than one fellow who was guilty of conduct unbecoming a gentleman--as a
matter of fact, he had reason to respect certain of them for some of
their ungentlemanly conduct--but conduct unbecoming an officer was
something altogether different. He had never met but one such, and he
had shot that fellow just above the bridge of the nose. A traitor to
his oath of office, a man who could dishonor his state, his country,
was worse than a renegade; his name was a hissi