“No, Mother. Our income is the same that it has been for years.” “Then it was not because of me; because you felt that I should have those 'luxuries' you talk about so often? Oh, I don't need them, Roscoe I really don't. I am--I scarcely dare say it for fear it may not be true--but I THINK I am better than I have been. I feel stronger.” “I know you are better, Mother. Doctor Quimby is very much encouraged.” “Is he? I am so glad! For your sake, Boy. Perhaps the time will come when I may not be your Old Man Of the Sea as I am now. But you did not sell the land because of me?” “No.” “You did not sell it for yourself, that I know. I wonder . . . But, there! I mustn't wonder, and I won't. Captain Dean was very angry and unreasonable, Dorinda says. I suppose his pride is hurt. I'm afraid he will make it unpleasant for you in the village.” “He will do his best, I'm sure of that.” “You poor boy! As if you did not have enough to bear without that! He has asked you to resign from the bank?” I smiled. “He has pitched me out, neck and crop,” I answered. “I expected that, of course.” “But what will you do? Can't Mr. Taylor help you? Perhaps he will use his influence with the captain.” “I don't need his influence, Mother. I took the place merely because of a whim. Now that I have lost it I am no worse off than I was before.” “But you enjoyed the work?” “Yes.” I was only beginning to realize how much I had enjoyed it. I sighed, involuntarily. Mother heard the sigh and the pressure of her hand on mine tightened. “Poor boy!” she said again. Then, after a moment, “I wish I might talk with Miss Colton about this.” I started violently. What had put that idea in her head? “Miss Colton!” I exclaimed. “Mother, whatever you do, don't speak to her--about me.” “Why not? She has not called on us for some time, but she is interested in you, I know. And perhaps her father could--” “Mother, don't.” She was silent for an instant. Then she said, quietly. “Boy, what is it? Is there something else you haven't told me? Something about--her?” “No, no,” I stammered. “Isn't there? Are you sure?” I do not know what reply I should have made. Her question, coming so close upon the heels of Dorinda's hints, upset me completely. Was it written upon my face, for everyone to see? Did I look the incredible idiot that I knew myself to be? For I did know it. In spite of my determination not to admit it even in my innermost thoughts, I knew. I was in love with Mabel Colton--madly, insanely, hopelessly in love with her, and should be until my dying day. I had played with fire too long. Before I could answer there came a knock at the door. It opened and Dorinda's head appeared. She seemed, for her, excited. “There's somebody to see you, Ros,” she said. “You'd better come out soon's you can. He's in a hurry.” “Someone to see me,” I repeated. “Who is it?”