"Is not what you renounce in her only another sacrifice to the noble work in which you are engaged?" "Rubbish! I like my work. But it does do a lot of good. And it’s quite true that I can not do it and give my life to Stephanie Quest. And so——" she shrugged her trim shoulders—"I can scarcely expect the child to care a straw for me, even if I come to see her now and then." Cleland said nothing. Miss Quest marched to the door, held open by Meacham, turned to Cleland: "Thank God you got her," she said. "I failed with Harry; I don’t deserve her and I dare not claim responsibility. But I’ll see that she inherits what I possess——" "Madame! I beg you will not occupy yourself with such matters. I am perfectly able to provide sufficiently——" "Good Lord! Are you trying to tell me again how to draw my will?" she demanded. "I am not. I am simply requesting you not to encumber this child with any unnecessary fortune. There is no advantage to her in any unwieldy inheritance; there is, on the contrary, a very real and alarming disadvantage." "I shall retain my liberty to think as I please, do as I please, and differ from you as often as I please," she retorted hotly. They glared upon each other for a moment; Meacham’s burnt-out gaze travelled dumbly from one to the other. Suddenly Miss Quest smiled and stretched out her hand to Cleland. "Thank God," she said again, "that it is you who have the child. Teach her to think kindly of me, if you can. I’ll come sometimes to see her—and to disagree with you." Cleland, bare-headed, took her out to her taxicab. She smiled at him when it departed. *CHAPTER V* There came the time when Easter vacation was to be reckoned with. Cleland wrote to Jim that he had a surprise for him and that, as usual, he would be at the station to meet the school train. During the intervening days, at moments fear became an anguish. He began to realize what might happen, what might threaten his hitherto perfect understanding with his only son. He need not have worried. Driving uptown in the limousine beside his son, their hands still tightly interlocked, he told him very quietly what he had done, and why. The boy, astonished, listened in silence to the end. Then all he said was: "For heaven’s sake, Father!" There was not the faintest hint of resentment, no emotion at all except a perfectly neutral amazement. "How old is she?" "Eleven, Jim." "Oh. A kid. Does she cry much?" "They don’t cry at eleven," explained his father, laughing in his relief. "You didn’t squall when you were eleven." "No. But this is a girl." "Don’t worry, old chap." "No. Do you suppose I’ll like her?" "Of course, I hope you will." "Well, I probably sha’n’t notice her very much, being rather busy.... But it’s funny.... A kid in the house! ... I hope she won’t get fresh." "Be nice to her, Jim." "Sure.... It’s funny, though."