One of the directors of the bank, a regular sitter in one of the Cleverdale stores--where that detestable creature, the male gossip, may be found every evening warming his toes as well as warming the reputation of his neighbors--related his suspicions to fellow-sitters, who in turn related them to their wives, and finally the news was generally circulated that Senator Hamblin disliked Cashier Alden because the latter admired his daughter. This was enlarged upon to suit the crowd where the subject was under discussion, until the whole neighborhood knew more about the private matters of the Hamblin family than did the family itself. There is nothing wonderful about this, though, for the family who knows as much about its own business as the neighbors do has never yet been discovered. Belle observed with pain her father's angry countenance, and sighed as she thought of the change that had come over him in a few short months. Once she was his pet; he never entered the house without uttering words of endearment or presenting her some token of affection; now, sullen and morose, he took his meals in silence, and the old, happy, sunshiny days were only memories. George Alden hearing her sigh looked into her face, and said: "Why are you sad?" "I was thinking--thinking of the happy past." "And has the present or future no happy moments?" "Yes, it has many; but oh, George, time works some dreadful changes. Once I was my father's pride, but that day has passed, and now he has no love, but ambition; no companions but such as Miller and Paddy Sullivan; no thought but for politics, and few aims outside of public life. Oh, how I should enjoy one single moment of the good old days--when I had a father." George offered some lover's sympathy of a kind that, although made by lips, does not put itself into words. But he said: "It makes me sad to realize that I am much to blame for this state of affairs. If I thought you would be happier I would make the greatest sacrifice man can, and give you up. I know by his every action toward me that I am the subject of his hatred. He considers me a thief who has stolen his most precious treasure, and if I did not fill my position at the bank acceptably I should not be retained an hour." "Is he unkind to you, George?" "No, he never speaks to me except on business matters. If he has anything to say, any little pleasantry to relate, it is always to Sargent, whom he treats in a far more friendly manner than he does me." "What kind of a clerk does Sargent make?" "He is a good accountant, perfectly correct, and very apt and quick to learn; writes a fine hand, and has the most wonderful power of imitating handwriting I ever saw." "Do you have confidence in him? Is he a man you can safely trust?" "H'm--well, he is your father's choice, he trusts him; why shouldn't I?" Belle, with true womanly instinct, was not satisfied, and said: