It was at this point that Roland rose to the occasion like the noble ass he is. Roland never could see more than an inch beyond the end of his nose. "Say, Mr. Burnham," he floundered, "don't you think you could help Sam to----" "I think," said Mr. Burnham, with additional business of looking at his watch, "I'd like to send that wire I spoke of." "Yes, Roland," Sam agreed meekly; "you mustn't keep your friend from his business. I'm glad you looked in, sir. You'll call again, I hope." "Thank you," said Burnham, moving toward the door. It was too much for Roland's sense of opportunity. He rolled in Burnham's wake, sullenly reluctant. "Say, Mr. Burnham," he exploded as they got to the door, "if you'll just offer Sam five----" _"That will do!"_ Roland collapsed as if punctured. Burnham turned to Graham with a wave of his hand. "I'm leaving on the afternoon train, but if I get time I may drop in again and talk things over with you. There might be something in that threshing machine you mentioned." "I'll be glad to show you anything I've got here..." "All right. Good-day. I'll see you again, perhaps." This cavalier snub was lost on Sam, an essential of whose serene soul is the quality of humility. He followed them to the door, as grateful as a lost dog for a stray pat instead of a kick. "Good-day, sir. Good-day, Roland," he sped their parting cheerfully. But it was a broken man who shut the door behind them and turned back, fingering his grey chin. There must have been a dimness in his eyes and a quiver to his wide-lipped, generous mouth. "Perhaps Mr. Burnham was right. Only I was kind of hopin'... Now Mr. Lockwood over there..." He shook himself to throw off the spell of depression and somehow managed to quicken again his abiding faith in the essential goodness of the world. "Well, well! He's kind, very kind." He began to restore his model to its hiding place, musing upon the ebb-tide in his affairs in his muddle-headed way, and in the process managed to convince himself that "it 'ud all come right." "With this young man in here, and everythin' gettin' fixed up, and new stock comin' in ... I'm sure Mr. Lockwood'll see it the right way ... for us.... He's kind, very kind." Thus it was that he presently called up the stairs in a very cheerful voice: "Betty, are you pretty near through up there?" The girl's weary voice came down to him without accent: "Yes, father, almost." "Well, then, you keep an eye on the store, please. I'm goin' to step out for a minute." "Yes, father." "And if--if anybody asks for me, I'll most likely be down to the depot, with Mr. Duncan." He didn't mention that he contemplated calling on Lockwood, because he feared it might worry Betty. ... As if a woman doesn't always understand when things are going wrong!