"A cousin of my mother's, a widow without children, offered to live with us and keep house. We rented part of the place and lived in close quarters in what was left. I worked like a Turk at anything and everything that brought in a penny; and so, all together, we had enough to eat and wear, and I was able to keep the girls and Homer in school. I went to night school and sat up reading anything I could get my hands on when I ought to have been in bed. It was hard sledding sometimes, but we pulled through. And I had good friends who saw that I was never out of a job of some sort. "After a while our cousin married again and left us; but by that time my sisters were old enough to take charge of the housekeeping, and we got on very well. Ten years ago they both married, and I said to Homer: 'Let's sell the house and give the money to the girls; you and I can shift for ourselves, and we don't want them to go to their husbands with nothing at all.' The kid was game, and so we sold the place and divided the money between Helen and Jeannette. Then I put Homer in school and struck out for myself. I've sent him to college, and he'll be graduated next year. But he's worked right along, and helped himself a heap. There's sure good stuff in the lad. "This Summer I'm not going to let him work; the rest of the way is clear enough now, and I want him to come down here with me, and learn to rope a steer and bust a bronco and go camping, and have a good out-doors time of it for his last college vacation." As she listened with her eyes fixed upon his face, Miss Dent's attention had been half upon his story and half upon the man behind it, searching out his character through his words. The conviction settled in her mind that his vengeful intention was rooted deep, and that the more he talked of it the more set would he become in his purpose. "I like your story," she said. "It is one of those tales of human effort that make one have more faith in human nature. But the climax you intend to put upon it is--horrible!" He noticed the slight movement of repulsion with which she spoke the word. "But that's your affair," she went on. "Did I understand you--did you say--" In spite of her self-control she was stumbling over the question. She masked her momentary confusion with an absorbed interest in getting her sewing together. "Did you say that Mr. Bancroft knows--that you have told him this story?" "Yes; I told him the outlines of it a little while ago, apropos of a check I had from Delafield. The rascal thinks he can buy me off that way. That shows he's buffaloed. But he'll find out I'm not that sort." "No; I shouldn't think you were. But Lucy--does she know anything about it?" He looked up in surprise. "Why, no; of course not."