Mr. Hardy walked on thoughtfully, and then glanced at the young man at his side. He was six feet tall, not very handsome, as Bessie had frankly said, but he had a good face, a steady, clear blue eye, and a resolute air, as of one who was willing to work hard to get what he wanted. Mr. Hardy could not help contrasting him with his own prematurely broken down son George, and he groaned inwardly as he thought of the foolish pride that would bar the doors of his family to a young man like James Caxton simply because he was poor and because his father had won in a contested election in which the two older men were candidates for the same office. It did not take long to think all this. Then he said, looking again at the young man with a businesslike look: "Supposing you had my permission, what are your prospects for supporting my daughter? She has always had everything she wanted. What could you give her?" The question might have seemed cold and businesslike. The tone was thoughtful and serious. A light flashed into James' eyes, but he said simply: "I am in a position to make a thousand dollars a year next spring. I earn something extra with my pen at home." Mr. Hardy did not reply to this. He said: "Do you know what a wilful, quick-tempered girl Clara is?" "I have known her from a little child, Mr. Hardy. I feel as if I know her about as well as you do." "Perhaps you know her better than I do; I do not know my child as I should." The tone was not bitter but intensely sad. The young man had, of course, been greatly wondering at this talk from Mr. Hardy, and had observed the change in his manner and his speech. He looked at him now and noted his pale, almost haggard face and his extremely thoughtful appearance. "Mr. Hardy," said James frankly, "you are in trouble. I wish I could"-- "Thank you; no, you can't help me in this--except," continued Mr. Hardy with a faint smile, "except you solve this trouble between you and my daughter." "There is no trouble between us, sir," replied James simply. "You know I love her and have loved her for a long time, and I believe I am able to support her and make her happy. Won't you give your consent, sir? We are not children. We know our minds." James spoke very earnestly. He was beginning to hope that the stern, proud man who had so curtly dismissed him a little while before would in some unaccountable manner relent and give him his heart's desire. Mr. Hardy walked along in silence a little way. Then he said almost abruptly: "James, do you drink?" "No, sir!" "Or gamble?" "You forget my mother, Mr. Hardy." The reply was almost stern.