often
in no condition to act wisely or well because the wear and tear of
their life is greater after business hours than during them. Business
maniac as Madge thinks me to be, little Jack is of more consequence
than a transcontinental railway. I must face the music--the discord,
rather--of Wall Street to-morrow. There is no use in protesting or
coaxing; I must be there; but it's a great thing to be able to return
with my nerves soothed, rested, and quieted. Heaven help the men who,
after the strain of the day, must go home to be pricked half to death
with pin-and-needle-like worries, if not worse."

"Please imagine Madge and myself making a profound courtesy for the
implied compliment," said Mrs. Muir. "But can you not spend part of
the week with us?"

"No. Graydon will soon be here, and there is much to be seen to. He
writes that he has worked very hard to get things in shape so that
he can leave them, and that he wishes to take a vacation. As far as
possible I shall gratify him. He can be with you here, and come to
town occasionally as I need him. It's all turning out very well, and I
am better off than many in these troublous times."

The remainder of his stay passed quietly in absolute rest, and on the
following morning he was evidently strengthened for the renewal of the
struggle.

* * * * *

"Stella!"

Miss Wildmere remained absorbed in her novel.

"Stella!" repeated Mr. Wildmere, impatiently.

"What is it?" she asked, fretfully. "I'm in an exciting scene. Can't
you wait awhile?"

"Oh, throw down your confounded novel! You should be giving your mind
to real life and exciting scenes of your own. No, I can't wait and
don't propose to, for I must go out."

The words were spoken in a small but elegant house, furnished in an
ultra-fashionable style. Mr. Wildmere was a stout, florid man, who
looked as if he might be burning his candle at both ends. His daughter
was dressed to receive summer evening calls at her own home, for she
was rarely without them. If the door-bell had rung she would have
dismissed her exciting scene without hesitation, but it was only her
father who asked her attention.

"Very well," she said, absently, turning down a leaf.

Her father observed her listless air and averted face for a moment
with contracted brow, then quietly remarked, "Graydon Muir may return
at any time now."

Her apathy disappeared at once, and a faint color stole into her face.