“Hold on, Labe. Does Rachel know about your fight?” “No. No, no. Course she must notice how long I've been--been straight, but I haven't told her. I want to be sure I'm goin' to win before I tell her. She's been disappointed times enough before, poor woman. . . . There, Cap'n Lote, don't let's talk about it any more. Please don't get the notion that I'm askin' for pity or anything like that. And don't think I'm comparin' what I call my fight to the real one like Al's. There's nothin' much heroic about me, eh? No, no, I guess not. Tell that to look at me, eh?” Captain Zelotes rose and laid his big hand on his bookkeeper's shoulder. “Don't you believe it, Labe,” he said. “I'm proud of you. . . . And, I declare, I'm ashamed of myself. . . . Humph! . . . Well, to-night you come home with me and have supper at the house.” “Now, now, Cap'n Lote--” “You do as I tell you. After supper, if there's any walkin' to be done--if you take a notion to frog it to Orham or San Francisco or somewheres--maybe I'll go with you. Walkin' may be good for my fight, too; you can't tell till you try. . . . There, don't argue, Labe. I'm skipper of this craft yet and you'll obey my orders; d'you hear?” The day following the receipt of the fateful telegram the captain wrote a brief note to Fletcher Fosdick. A day or two later he received a reply. Fosdick's letter was kindly and deeply sympathetic. He had been greatly shocked and grieved by the news. Young Speranza seemed to me, (he wrote) in my one short interview with him, to be a fine young fellow. Madeline, poor girl, is almost frantic. She will recover by and by, recovery is easier at her age, but it will be very, very hard for you and Mrs. Snow. You and I little thought when we discussed the problem of our young people that it would be solved in this way. To you and your wife my sincerest sympathy. When you hear particulars concerning your grandson's death, please write me. Madeline is anxious to know and keeps asking for them. Mrs. Fosdick is too much concerned with her daughter's health to write just now, but she joins me in sympathetic regards. Captain Zelotes took Mrs. Fosdick's sympathy with a grain of salt. When he showed this letter to his wife he, for the first time, told her of the engagement, explaining that his previous silence had been due to Albert's request that the affair be kept a secret for the present. Olive, even in the depth of her sorrow, was greatly impressed by the grandeur of the alliance. “Just think, Zelotes,” she exclaimed, “the Fosdick girl--and our Albert engaged to marry her! Why, the Fosdicks are awful rich, everybody says so. Mrs. Fosdick is head of I don't know how many societies and clubs and things in New York; her name is in the paper almost every day, so another New York woman told me at Red Cross meetin' last summer. And Mr. Fosdick has been in politics, way up in politics.” “Um-hm. Well, he's reformed lately, I understand, so we mustn't hold that against him.”