“I want to find Jake Benson,” said Gibbs. “I reckon I'll pass the night with him. Good-night, son;” he gave the boy his fat forefinger. Then from his pocket he took the letter which Stephen had written Virginia, so largely at his instigation. “It's from Steve,” he said simply, as he handed it to her. “I've said nothing of my gratitude to you for all your kindness;” and Virginia drew the child closer to her breast. “It was little enough I was able to do, Mrs. Landray. God knows I wanted Steve to live, but it wasn't to be.” He mopped his face with his handkerchief. “It wasn't to be,” he repeated sadly, then he bade her an abrupt good-night and hurried from the house. As the general had intimated, he proposed being entertained by Benson. The trip East had involved such nice calculation that this would be necessary unless he expected to practice extraordinary selfdenial on the way home; and freed of the care of the child he proposed permitting himself a certain latitude on the return journey. The lawyer no longer lived in the house on the square; he had moved to a more remote part of the town where he had built a home which stood in the midst of extensive grounds. It was altogether the most costly and imposing place in Benson. Gibbs found his way thither. From the servant who answered his ring, he learned that his friend was not in, but was expected home shortly. “Then I'll wait for him here,” said Gibbs. This the servant seemed reluctant to allow, but Gibbs pushed resolutely past him. “Tell Jake—” he corrected himself artfully. “Tell Mr. Benson that it's General Gibbs of Kansas;” and he was shown into the library; he had hardly seated himself when the street door opened again, and a moment later Benson hurried into the room. “Why, Gibbs, what has brought you back?” he cried. The general took him warmly by the hand. “Jake, how are you!” he said. “I've fetched Stephen's boy home to Mrs. Landray,” he added, answering Benson's question. “That was very sad about Landray,” observed the lawyer gravely. “I don't know when I felt a death as I felt his,” rejoined Gibbs huskily, and his under lip quivered. There was a brief silence in which the lawyer gave himself up to a critical scrutiny of his guest. “What are you doing, Gibbs?” he asked abruptly. “I? Oh, I'm trying to rub the creases out of a cocked hat,” answered the general lightly. “I am sort of resting on my laurels, Jake, waiting for the tide to turn.” “It's good to have laurels to rest on,” said Benson. “Come into the dining-room and we will have something to eat and drink.” Gibbs quitted his chair with alacrity. “You were speaking of Landray a moment ago,” said Benson when they had seated themselves. “He was not very successful, was he?”