"Not," answered the Colonel, "if I know Medway, and I think I do! To come back, crippled, after all these primrose years--to sleep in his old room, and Maria's--to sit on the porch and listen to Bob and Serena--No!" That night in her own room Hagar placed two candles on the table, took a sheet of paper and a pencil, and sitting down, made a calculation. The night was warm to oppression; through the windows came the indefinite, hot, thick murmur of the evening city. Hagar sat with bare arms and throat and loosened hair. She wrote her name, _Hagar Ashendyne_, and her age, and then, an inch below, a little table,-- The Prize Story $200.00 (_Clothes, books, Thomasine. All spent._) The Story in ----'s Magazine $50.00 (_Clothes, books. All spent._) "The Lame Duck" $100.00 (_I have most of it yet._) "The Mortal" $125.00 ------- Total $475.00 After a pause the pencil moved on. "Many stories in mind, one partly written. The monthly says I can write and will make a name." It paused, then moved again. "To earn a living. To live where life is simple and doesn't cost much. If I go on, and I will go on, I could live at Gilead Balm on what I make, and help keep up the place. If ever I had to live by myself, I could get two or three rooms in a city and live there. Or maybe a small house, and have Thomasine with me. In another year or two years, I can keep myself. I do not want to stay here when grandfather goes. Where there is no love and honour, what is the use? It isn't as though he needed me--he doesn't--or wanted me--" She laid the pencil down and leaned back in the deep chair. Her eyes grew less troubled; a vague relief and calm came into her face, and she smiled fleetingly. "If he doesn't think he needs me or wants me,--and I don't believe he'll think so,--then there isn't anything surer than that I won't stay." She rose and paced the room. "I shouldn't worry, Hagar!"