oung," piped the Doctor. "In just about eighteen
months, you will be coming to me to go on your bond--to keep out of
jail. I've seen new-fangled revolutions peter out before."

"Just the same," replied Grant, "I've pinned my faith to these men and
women. They are now working in fear of poverty. Give them hope of better
things instead of fear and they will develop out of poverty, just as the
middle class came out under the same stimulus."

"I don't know anything about that," interrupted Perry, "but I do know
that I could take that money and put three thousand families to work on
the land in the Wahoo Valley and develop the best labor in the country."

He laughed, and Grant gazed, almost flared, so eager was his look, at
Perry for a moment, and said: "When the day of the democracy of labor
comes--and it will come and come soon--men like you will take
leadership."

There was more high talk, and Nathan Perry went home with his pill.

When he was gone, the music from indoors came to the three men. "That's
from his new opera, father," said Grant, as his attention was attracted
to the violin and piano.

"Good Lord," exclaimed the Doctor, "I've heard so much of that opera
that I caught myself prescribing a bar from the opening chorus for the
grip the other day!"

The two elder men looked at each other, and the Doctor said, "Well,
Amos--that's mostly why I asked you to come up to-day. It wasn't for the
society of your amateur revolutionist--you may be sure of that."

The Doctor tempered his words with a smile, but they had pricks, and
Grant winced. "I suppose we may as well consider Lila and Kenyon as
before the house?"

"Kenyon came to me last night," said Grant, "wanting to know whether he
should come to father first, or go to Dr. Nesbit, or--well, he wondered
if it would be necessary to talk with Lila's own father." All the
grimness in Grant's countenance melted as he spoke of Kenyon and the
battered features softened.

"And that is what I wish to talk about, Grant," said the Doctor gently.
"They don't know who Kenyon is--I mean, they don't know about his
parentage." Grant looked at the floor. Slowly as the old shame revived
in him, its flush rose from his neck to his face and met his tousled
hair. The two old men looked seriously at one another. The Doctor
emphasized the solemnity of the occasion by lighting a pipe.

"I don't know--I really don't know what is right here," he said finally.
"Is it fair to Laura to