"Well, 't isn't," declared Mrs. Jane tartly, getting to her feet. "And I, for one, am going back to work—in the kitchen, where I belong. And—Well, if here ain't Jim at last," she broke off, as her younger brother-in-law appeared in the doorway.

"You're too late, pa, you're too late! It's all done," clamored Benny. "They've got everything all settled."

The man in the doorway smiled.

"I knew they would have, Benny; and I haven't been needed, I'm sure,— your mother's here."

Mrs. Harriet bridled, but did not look unpleased.

"But, say, Jim," breathed Miss Flora, "ain't it wonderful—ain't it perfectly wonderful?"

"It is, indeed,—very wonderful," replied Mr. Jim

A Babel of eager voices arose then, but Mr. Smith was not listening now. He was watching Mr. Jim's face, and trying to fathom its expression.

A little later, when the women had gone into the kitchen and Mr. Frank had clattered back to his work downstairs, Mr. Smith thought he had the explanation of that look on Mr. Jim's face. Mr. Jim and Beany were standing over by the fireplace together.

"Pa, ain't you glad—about the money?" asked Benny.

"I should be, shouldn't I, my son?"

"But you look—so funny, and you didn't say anything, hardly."

There was a moment's pause. The man, with his eyes fixed on the glowing coals in the grate, appeared not to have heard. But in a moment he said:—

"Benny, if a poor old horse had been climbing a long, long hill all day with the hot sun on his back, and a load that dragged and dragged at his heels, and if he couldn't see a thing but the dust of the road that blinded and choked him, and if he just felt that he couldn't go another step, in spite of the whip that snapped 'Get there—get there!' all day in his ears—how do you suppose that poor old horse would feel if suddenly the load, and the whip, and the hill, and the dust disappeared, and he found himself in a green pasture with the cool gurgle of water under green trees in his ears—how do you suppose that poor old horse would feel?"

"Say, he'd like it great, wouldn't he? But, pa, you didn't tell me yet if you liked the money."

The man stirred, as if waking from a trance. He threw his arm around Benny's shoulders.

"Like it? Why, of course, I like it, Benny, my boy! Why, I'm going to have time now—to get acquainted with my children!"

Across the room Mr. Smith, with a sudden tightening of his throat, slipped softly into the hall and thence to his own room. Mr. Smith, just then, did not wish to be seen.

Chapter X - What Does it Matter?

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