The dinner which followed was an elaborate one, for it was not within the range of the hostess’s notions to entertain in any simple fashion, even when the occasion was the birthday of a fourteen-year-old. But the young people at the board succeeded in infusing so much of their own joyousness into the affair that the time passed swiftly. There were birthday gifts at Jane’s plate as well as at Shirley’s, and it would have been hard to tell, at the close of the feast, which pair of cheeks was the pinker, or which pair of eyes the brighter. It is safe to guess however, that there were elements in the pleasure of one recipient which must have been lacking in that of the other, and that the presence of one birthday guest counted for more to her than all the gifts put together. The fact that she could hardly look up without encountering the interested glance of the newly arrived traveller was just a trifle disconcerting, and it must be admitted that when Jane and Shirley gathered up their gifts at the close of the dinner, the little girl knew better than the older one just what she had received. Dinner over, a short and not especially dramatic little scene took place behind closed library doors. Scenes which mean the most are often quietest of all. "I just wanted to tell you, sir," said Murray to his father, "something I thought you might like to know right away. I--went West to make myself strong enough to--to go into the business, if you care to have me. I mean," he went on quickly, as his father looked at him as if he could not quite believe the purport of these words, "I mean in whatever capacity you can use me. Shipping-clerk, if you think I ’d better begin at the bottom"--and his smile was not a smile which supplied "but of course you won’t." Mr. Townsend stood looking at Murray, studying the straightforward gaze which met his; noting the tints of health, the signs of vigour in the fine face. "Murray, do you mean it?" he asked. "I do, sir." "And yet you don’t like the prospect of a business life any more than you ever did, do you?" "Not much, sir." "You make this offer knowing fully what it entails? I have little expectation that your brother will ever agree to my wishes." "That’s what decided me." "You are willing to give up your books? You could complete your college course now, with your renewed health." If Murray winced at this he did not let it show. "I think you need me now, sir. And as for the college course--and the books--I shall have my evenings." Mr. Townsend studied his son’s face a full minute in silence. Then he held out his hand. Murray seized it with a grasp which banished the elder man’s doubts and showed him that his boy’s heart was in this offer of himself. The two shook hands without speaking. There seemed no need of further words just then.