“No, hardly that,” he answered. “I saw Burton, but there is no money available. He was very kind. The trustees are going to give me an increase of salary--two hundred and fifty dollars more. It will be a great help. You see, with the increase, I can pay off the loan I am contracting in two or three years.” 'Thusia looked frightened. “A loan? Are you borrowing money, David?” “Lucille Hardcome offered it; she practically forced me to accept it, 'Thusia. It was all I could do to keep her from forcing it on me as a gift. That I would not hear of, of course.” “How much are you borrowing?” asked 'Thusia, with an intake of breath. “It will be about a thousand dollars; a thousand, I think.” “She could hand you ten thousand and not feel it, from what I hear,” said Roger. “'Thusia, you don't approve?” asked David. “Oh, I wish it could have been anyone but Lucille!” said 'Thusia. “It seems so--But I know so little of money matters. You would do what was best, of course, David. It will be a great blessing to feel we are not making the tradesmen wait for what is honestly theirs.” “I should have consulted you,” David said, entirely without irony, for he did consult her on most matters of importance. “It is not too late to decline even now. I have not signed the note. She is to bring the money this afternoon. But, if I refuse--” He related his conversation with Lucille, as well as he could recall it. “I hardly see how you could refuse,” 'Thusia admitted. “If she was angered she would do something to show her displeasure. Deep as she is in the church affairs I hardly feel that she is with us heart and soul yet. She always seems like an outsider taking an interest because--I shouldn't say it--she likes the prominence. That is why I wish you could have had the money from another. I'm sure Mary would have lent it.” “And of all the women I know,” said David, “Mary is the last I should wish to borrow from. Had I my choice I would choose an entire outsider; the more completely it is a business transaction the more pleased I am.” No more was said then. Roger hurried away, not because his job called him, but because, as catcher of his nine, it was his duty to keep in practice; and some members of the nine might be on the levee willing to pitch to him. Alice still waited. “Will you let me speak with your mother awhile, daughter!” David said. “Then we will call you.” “Shall I take the dishes out first!” asked Alice. “Yes.” 'Thusia raised herself a little on her pillows when Alice had quitted the room, and David drew a chair to the side of her couch. For a few moments they were silent. “How did it happen!” David asked finally. “David, you must not think unkindly of her; Alice is such a child--such a dear girl! She has no worldliness; how should she have with you and me for her parents! I think I am to blame if she has chosen wrongly. I am afraid I have neglected her, David.”