"Because it was after we knew you that things began to get better. I was angry with my father that first day when he asked you in, because I didn't want you to see how--how straitened we were. There's a pride of poverty, you know; well, I suppose I must have a little bit of it. Everything was at its worst then. But now it's all different. You've been the mascot." He again felt her eyes surveying him, but found it impossible to look at her. In his heart he was afraid of what he might read in her face. "Don't you like being a mascot?" she queried, in her happy girl's voice. "You don't look as if you did." "I'm proud and flattered, probably too much so for speech." "I'm glad, because that's what you were. There's no getting out of it. I'll tell you how it happened. My father used to own a great deal of stock in mines and companies and things, and when everything went down so fast, he sold almost all of it. But some he kept. He had it put away in the drawers of his desk up-stairs in his room, and about two months ago it began to go up, and now it pays dividends and we get them. Isn't that good luck?" She was close to him, looking into his face. He turned his head this time and confronted her with a steady gaze. In the harsh afternoon light every curve and line of her countenance was revealed. Her eyes were full of light and joy. His glance met and held them for one searching moment, then turned away baffled. "Very good luck. I congratulate you," he said. "You may well," she answered. "I'd given up expecting good luck ever any more in this world. I believe in it, and my father's had come and gone almost before I was born, and mine--mine hasn't come yet, I suppose." "Unless you discover some more old stock in the pigeonholes of the desk." "Oh, I don't think that's likely. Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place." "What was the stock? Mining stock?" She seemed in doubt for a moment, then said: "Yes, I think so--yes, surely, mining stock." "Do you remember the name of the mine?" He glanced at her as she walked beside him. She appeared to be cogitating. "I don't believe I do," she answered at length. "To tell you the truth, I don't believe my father mentioned it to me. I'm very stupid about business. I've never had any necessity to know about it, and so I've never learned." "How long had it been lying in the desk?" "Oh, years and years! Probably twenty. It was a relic of the days when everything was booming." "If he's been paying assessments on it all these years, he ought certainly to be repaid now." He was scrutinizing her sharply. Her profile was toward him, and at this remark he saw the color mount into her cheek, and that curious appearance of immobility come over her face which denotes a sudden, almost electric stoppage and then concentration of mental activity. She raised her head and said, without looking at him: "Assessments are a yearly or semi-yearly payment, aren't they?"