Gifford laughed. "He only fishes for men," he said. "He devotes himself to it day and night. Especially of late; his fear of hell-fire for other people's souls has seemed to take great hold on him." "Gad!" said Dr. Howe. "He's a queer fellow." "He's a good fellow," Gifford answered warmly. "And as to his belief, why, you believe in hell, don't you, doctor?" "Oh, bless my soul, yes," said Dr. Howe, with a laugh, and with a twinkle in his eyes. "I must, you know, and it's well to be on the safe side, Giff; if you believe it here, theoretically, it is to be supposed you won't believe it there, experimentally!" He laughed again, his big, jolly laugh. "Good-by, Denner. You took all the luck." Then he trudged whistling up the path, striking at the hollyhocks with his rod, and wondering how long it would take Sally to brush the mud off his corduroys. But Mr. Denner delayed. He laid his rod tenderly down on the grass, and his fishing-basket on the stone bench beside him. Gifford's sense of humor padded a good many of the sharp points of life; he had to look less doleful when he saw that the lawyer had chosen Lois's seat, and even her attitude; his little shriveled hands were clasped upon his knees, and he was bending forward, looking at the young man as he talked. Gifford thought of a sonnet in his left breast-pocket, beginning, "To one who sat 'neath rustling poplar-tree," and smiled. "Well, now," said Mr. Denner, "it is pleasant to see you at home again, Gifford. It must be a pleasure to your aunts." "It is a great pleasure to me," the young man replied. "I only wish that I could carry them back to Lockhaven with me." "What, both of them?" Mr. Denner asked, in an alarmed way. "Oh, of course," answered the other; "they couldn't be separated. Why, you cannot think of one of them without thinking of the other!" Mr. Denner sighed. "Just so, just so. I have observed that." "But I'm afraid," Gifford went on, "they wouldn't be quite happy there. There's no church, you know,--I mean no Episcopal Church,--and then it isn't like Ashurst. Except Helen and Mr. Ward, there are only working people, though, for that matter, Ward works harder than anybody else. Yes, they would miss Ashurst too much." "You really think they would miss--us?" said Mr. Denner eagerly. "Yes," responded Gifford slowly. He was beginning to look at the bunch of violets again, and his aunts did not seem so interesting. "Well, now," Mr. Denner said, "I am sure I am glad to hear you say that, very glad. We--ah--should miss them, I assure you." Gifford reached out and plucked up the violets by the roots, to save them from Mr. Denner's drab gaiter, and planted them deep in a crevice of the steps. "Ah--Gifford," said the lawyer, after he had waited a reasonable time for an answer, "a--a friend of mine is in some perplexity concerning an attachment; he wished my advice." Gifford began to look interested. "Foreclosure?"