Slow and uncertain, foolishly trustful, weak as he had been in business matters, there was a certain austerity in John Lawton's moral character. His life had been singularly clean and wholesome. He had known how to resist the temptations that many men consider it rather "goody-goody" or "middle-class" to resist. The "high-roller" and the gambler he classed together, but the immoral married man was, to his old-fashioned belief, the man unspeakable! And that was why Letitia was learning to keep a secret! She, the tyrant, was afraid of her slave! So John Lawton was the only person in that house who was not dreaming dreams or weaving plans for the future! He was like a mossy stone, immovable, in the middle of a gentle stream. The water does not rush over it, but parts and races about it with touches of white caressing foam, then joins again below it and continues on in one united stream. But this June day was a special one in the Lawton family, since on it fell the birthdays of both Mrs. Lawton and Sybil; a fact sufficiently unusual to justify the mentioning of it, according to Mrs. Lawton's ideas, though her doing so to such mere acquaintances as Mr. Galt and Mr. Bulkley covered the girls with mortification. "Poor Sybil!" said Dorothy, sympathetically, when the mother had mentioned the interesting coincidence to the second gentleman, "but don't mind, dear! Anyone can see you are innocent of--of----" "Of giving a disgracefully broad hint! Oh, what is coming to mamma! Her pride--where is it? Poor papa simply tries to hide his needs, as mamma did formerly, at least from strangers. She would always demand help from any relative, but of late--oh, nothing is so humiliating as the hint direct! There's no use denying it, mamma reminds me of one of those creamy-white, fine silky sponges----" "Oh, don't!" almost whispered Dorothy. "For truly, I'd a great deal rather hear her say boldly: 'Stand and deliver!'" At which both girls had broken into laughter.