rstand, I'll pay for it--" Grant Adams stared at
him. "Why--why--no--" stammered Grant in confusion, while Van Dorn
thrust a five-dollar bill upon him. He tried to return it, but the bride
and groom ran to the train, leaving the young man alone and hurt in his
heart. The father from the buggy saw what had happened. In a few minutes
they were leading the Doctor's horse behind the Adams buggy. "I didn't
want their money," exclaimed Grant, "I wanted their--their--"

"You wanted their friendship, Grant--that's what you wanted," said the
father.

"And he wanted a hired man," cried Grant. "Just a hired man, and
she--why, didn't she understand? She knew I would have carried the old
horse on my back clear to town, if she'd let me, just to hear her laugh
once. Father," the son's voice was bitter as he spoke, "why didn't she
understand----why did she side with him?"

The father smiled. "Perhaps, on your wedding trip, Grant, your wife will
agree with you too, son."

As they rode home in silence, the young man asked himself over and over
again, what lines divided the world into classes; why manual toil shuts
off the toilers from those who serve the world otherwise. Youth is
sensitive; often it is supersensitive, and Grant Adams saw or thought he
saw in the little byplay of Tom Van Dorn the caste prod of society
jabbing labor back into its place.

"Tom," said the bride as they watched Grant Adams unhitch the horse by
the lumber yard, "why did you force that money on Grant----he would have
much preferred to have your hand when he said good-by."

"He's not my kind of folks, Laura," replied Van Dorn. "I know you like
him. But that five will do him lots more good than my shaking his hand,
and if that youth wasn't as proud as Lucifer he'd rather have five
dollars than any man's hand. I would----if it comes to that."

"But, Tom," answered the girl, "that wasn't pride, that was
self-respect."

"Well, my dear," he squeezed her gloved hand and in the darkness put his
arm about her, "let's not worry about him. All I know is that I wanted
to square it with him for taking care of the horse and five dollars
won't hurt his self-respect. And," said the bridegroom as he pressed the
bride very close to his heart, "what is it to us? We have each other, so
what do we care----what is all the world to us?"

As the midnight train whistled out of South Harvey Grant Adams sitting
on a bedside was fondly unbuttoning a small body from its clothes,