nearest to him--his children and wife, and the material comfort
which continued to attend him with the blessing of that heaven which
seems so largely occupied in fulfilling the desires of the good for
their own commercial prosperity.

Too, he had begun to show a peculiar pride in the commercial development
of Gerald, speaking often of his gratifying application to business, the
stability of his modest position, the friends he was making among men of
substance, their regard for him.

"Not that the boy is doing much of a business yet," he would say with a
tolerant shrug of his big fleshy shoulders, "but he's laying the
foundation for success--a good, upright, solid foundation--with the
doubtful scheming of Neergard left out"--at that time Neergard had not
yet gone to pieces, physically--"and I expect to aid him when aid is
required, and to extend to him, judiciously, such assistance, from time
to time, as I think he may require. . . . There's one thing--"

Austin puffed once or twice at his cigar and frowned; and Selwyn,
absently watching the dying embers on the hearth, waited in silence.

"One thing," repeated Austin, reaching for the tongs and laying a log of
white birch across the coals; "and that is Gerald's fondness for pretty
girls. . . . Not that it isn't all right, too, but I hope he isn't going
to involve himself--hang a millstone around his neck before he can see
his way clear to some promise of a permanent income based on--"

"Pooh!" said Selwyn.

"What's that?" demanded Austin, turning red.

Selwyn laughed. "What did you have when you married my sister?"

Austin, still red and dignified, said:

"Your sister is a very remarkable woman--extremely unusual. I had the
good sense to see that the first time I ever met her."

"Gerald will see the same thing when his time comes," said Selwyn
quietly. "Don't worry, Austin; he's sound at the core."

Austin considered his cigar-end, turning it round and round. "There's
good stock in the boy; I always knew it--even when he acted like a
yellow pup. You see, Phil, that my treatment of him was the proper
treatment. I was right in refusing to mollycoddle him or put up with any
of his callow, unbaked impudence. You know yourself that you wanted me
to let up on him--make all kinds of excuses. Why, man, if I had given
him an inch leeway he'd have been up to his ears in debt. But I was
firm. He saw I'd stand no fooling. He didn't dare contract debts which
he couldn't