era of prosperity would come to the Oskamp's, with
grim poverty banished forever.

Carl entered by the gate, and passed around the side of the house
instead of using the front door as usual.

The boy knew that the windows of the little sitting room must be open,
and of course the afternoon caller would be in there. Carl was anxious
to hear what had caused the rich old man to don his best clothes and
drop in to see his mother of an afternoon, though he strongly suspected
the reason back of it.

It did not strike the boy that he was playing the part of an
eavesdropper, for in his mind just then the end justified the means.
And he knew that Amasa Culpepper had to be fought with his own weapons.

Evidently he must have again asked Mrs. Oskamp to marry him, and as
before met with a laughing refusal, for Carl could hear him walking
nervously up and down in the little sitting room.

Having exhausted his stock of arguments as to why she should think
seriously of his proposal, Mr. Culpepper seemed to be getting angry. He
had been courting the widow for a long time without making any
impression on her heart. It was time to change his tactics. Perhaps
since entreaties had failed something in the way of half-veiled threats
would become more successful.

"You tell me that with the burning of the tenement building more than
half of your little property has been lost," Carl heard him saying as
he crouched there under the open window.

"Yes, that is the sad truth, Mr. Culpepper," the widow admitted.

"But with a family of children to bring up how are you going to live
from now on, when before this happened you had barely enough? If you
would seriously consider the proposition I make you, and become Mrs.
Culpepper, your children would have a good home."

"That is very generous of you, Mr. Culpepper," Carl heard his mother
say, while he fairly held his breath in suspense for fear she might
agree to what the other asked; "but I cannot change my mind. I never
expect to marry again."

"But how can you get along, I want to know?" he demanded, angrily. "It
takes money to live, and you will see the children you love suffer."

"There is one resource still left," she told him, as though urged to
put him to the test. "It lies in those shares of oil stock which you
are holding for me. They have become very valuable, and when I dispose
of them I hope to have enough and to spare for all future needs."

There was a brief and awkward si