"Andrew keeps it," said Starke, with a smile, "for the sake of old times, side by side with his lantern, I believe." "You never work with it?" "No; why should I? The principle has since been made practical, as you know, better than I could have done it. My idea was too crude, I can see now. So I just grazed success, as one may say." "Have you given up all hope of serving your fellows?" persisted the lady. "You seemed to me to be the very man to lead a forlorn hope against ignorance: are you quite content to settle down here and do nothing?" His color changed, but he said quietly,-- "I've learned to be humbler, maybe. It was hard learning. But," trying to speak lightly, "when I found I was not fit to be an officer, I tried to be as good a private as I could. Your uncle will tell you the cause is the same." There was a painful silence. "I think sometimes, though," said Starke, "that God meant Jane and I should not be useless in the world." He put his hand almost reverently on the boy's head. "Richard is ours, you know, to make what we will of. He will do a different work in life from any engine. I try to think we have strength enough saved out of our life to make him what we ought." "You're right, Starke," said the Doctor, emphatically. "Some day, when you and I have done with this long fight, we shall find that as many privates as captains will have earned the cross of the Legion of Honor." Miss Defourchet said nothing; the day did not please her. Jane, she noticed, when evening came on, slipped up-stairs to brush her hair, and put on a soft white shawl. "Joseph likes to see me dress a little for the evenings," she said, with quite a flush in her cheek. And the young lady noticed that Starke smiled tenderly as his wife passed him. It was so weak! in ugly, large-boned people, too. "It does one good to go there," said the Doctor, drawing a long breath as they drove off in the cool evening, the shadowed red of the sun lighting up the little porch where the machinist stood with his wife and child. "The unity among them is so healthy and beautiful." "I did not feel it as you do," said Miss Defourchet, drawing her shawl closer, and shivering. Starke came down on the grass to play with the boy, throwing him down on the heaps of hay there to see him jump and rush back undaunted. Yet in all his rude romps the solemn quiet of the hour was creeping over him. He sat down by Jane on the wooden steps at last, while, the boy, after an impetuous kiss or two, curled up at their feet and went to sleep The question about the model had stirred an old doubt in Jane's heart. She watched her husband keenly. Was he thinking of that old dream? _Would_ he go back to it? the long dull pain of those dead years creeping through her brain. He looked up from the boy, stroking his gray beard,--his eyes, she saw, full of tears. "I was thinking, Jane, how much of our lives was lost before we found our true work." "Yes, Joseph."