As Mrs. Jones had closed the dining-room door behind her, he had seen that she was crying. Her tears had acted like a knife on his obstinacy. If there was one method of bringing Bill to a realization of his shortcomings, it was the knowledge that he had brought his wife to tears. No matter what the occasion, through the years of his many omissions, he had never failed to awaken to a sense of duty at the slightest hint of a sob on her part. And now remorse was gnawing heavily at his heart. He knew that she was sorely tried by his laziness. He knew that ever since she had come from the city she had longed for some of the luxuries which she had tasted for the first and only time in those few brief days when Thomas had given her a bit of every woman's paradise. And as he looked out he wondered in his slow, but none the less logical, way what it mattered, after all, if the place did go, just so long as mother was happy. To be sure, the place was worth much more than Hammond was willing to pay them. But it was enough for their humble needs. From the door beyond he could hear the sound of her sobs. He went half-way across the room. "Yes," he reasoned with himself, "after all, the property is hers. I gave her my part of it to do as she pleased with." And a sudden resolve to do her will possessed him. But as he reached the middle of the lobby he heard some one on tiptoe behind him. He turned to see Marvin, crouched down by the desk, so that any one coming from up-stairs could not see him. "'Sh!" Bill put up a warning hand. "Blodgett's outside there some place." "He's snoring in his buggy," Marvin whispered back, with a half-smile. "Bill," he added, quickly, "I've been outside and I've heard every word they've been saying to you. I haven't time to tell you all I want to just now. Promise me again that you won't sign that deed until you've talked further with me about it." [Illustration: "PROMISE ME YOU WON'T SIGN THE DEED." ... BILL HESITATED] Bill hesitated. "Well, mother wants to awful bad," he answered, slowly. From the dining-room voices could be heard. "Ye'd better get out," said Bill. "Not until you promise," persisted Marvin. Bill wavered an instant. He wanted mother to be happy, and yet, another day did not make so much difference--especially when Marvin was in danger. The door in back of him swung open. Leaning quickly down to Marvin, as the latter crept toward the outer door, he whispered: "All right. I promise." Mrs. Jones walked into the room with a swagger, half of indignation, half of sorrow. She was still wiping the tears from her eyes. The deed and the pen were in her hand. Bill went to her, placing an affectionate hand on her bare arm. "Mother, ain't you cold?" He could not resist another tilt at her unusual costume.