It is one thing to have youth, courage, and a fighting spirit to meet the blows with which fortune often afflicts the talented. It is quite another to see middle age coming on, your principal fortune possibly gone, and avenue after avenue of opportunity being sealed to you on various sides. Jennie’s obvious social insufficiency, the quality of newspaper reputation which had now become attached to her, his father’s opposition and death, the loss of his fortune, the loss of his connection with the company, his brother’s attitude, this trust, all combined in a way to dishearten and discourage him. He tried to keep a brave face—and he had succeeded thus far, he thought, admirably, but this last blow appeared for the time being a little too much. He went home, the same evening that he heard the news, sorely disheartened. Jennie saw it. She realized it, as a matter of fact, all during the evening that he was away. She felt blue and despondent herself. When he came home she saw what it was—something had happened to him. Her first impulse was to say, “What is the matter, Lester?” but her next and sounder one was to ignore it until he was ready to speak, if ever. She tried not to let him see that she saw, coming as near as she might affectionately without disturbing him. “Vesta is so delighted with herself to-day,” she volunteered by way of diversion. “She got such nice marks in school.” “That’s good,” he replied solemnly. “And she dances beautifully these days. She showed me some of her new dances to-night. You haven’t any idea how sweet she looks.” “I’m glad of it,” he grumbled. “I always wanted her to be perfect in that. It’s time she was going into some good girls’ school, I think.” “And papa gets in such a rage. I have to laugh. She teases him about it—the little imp. She offered to teach him to dance to-night. If he didn’t love her so he’d box her ears.” “I can see that,” said Lester, smiling. “Him dancing! That’s pretty good!” “She’s not the least bit disturbed by his storming, either.” “Good for her,” said Lester. He was very fond of Vesta, who was now quite a girl. So Jennie tripped on until his mood was modified a little, and then some inkling of what had happened came out. It was when they were retiring for the night. “Robert’s formulated a pretty big thing in a financial way since we’ve been away,” he volunteered. “What is it?” asked Jennie, all ears. “Oh, he’s gotten up a carriage trust. It’s something which will take in every manufactory of any importance in the country. Bracebridge was telling me that Robert was made president, and that they have nearly eight millions in capital.” “You don’t say!” replied Jennie. “Well, then you won’t want to do much with your new company, will you?” “No; there’s nothing in that, just now,” he said. “Later on I fancy it may be all right. I’ll wait and see how this thing comes out. You never can tell what a trust like that will do.”