When the president of the company walked quietly into Bivens's office and made the announcement, for a moment the little dark man completely lost his nerve--cold beads of sweat started from his swarthy forehead. "Are you joking?" he gasped. "Do you think I'd joke about my own funeral?" "No, of course not, but there must be some mistake." "There's no mistake. It's a blow below the belt, but it's a knockout for the moment. They know we are solvent, two dollars for one. But they know we have $90,000,000 on deposit and we have some big enemies. They know that the group we have supported have smashed this market, and they've set out to fight the devil with fire. They're determined to force a show-down and see how much real money is behind us. We can pull through if we stand together." The stolid face of the banker became a motionless mask as he asked: "Are we going to stand together?" Bivens sprang to his feet, exclaiming fiercely: "Until hell freezes over!" The banker smiled feebly for the first time in a week. "Then it's all right, Mr. Bivens. We'll pull through. They'll start a run on us to-morrow. Five millions in cash will meet it and we'll win, hands down. We have powerful friends. Our only sin is our association with your group. We must have that five millions in the safe before the doors are opened to-morrow." "You shall have it," was the firm answer. With a cheerful pressure of the hand the president of the Van Dam Trust Company left and Bivens called his secretary. "We turn the market to-morrow--orders to all our men. Knock the bottom out of it until the noon hour, then turn and send it skyward with a bound. You understand?" "Yes sir." With an instinctive military salute the secretary hurried to execute the order. * * * * * When Dr. Woodman returned home that night from one of his endless tramps among the poor, Harriet opened the door. Something about the expression of his face startled her. For the first time in her life she saw in its gaunt lines the shadow of despair. He had aged rapidly of late, but the sunlight had never before quite faded from his eyes. "What is it, Papa dear?" she asked tenderly, slipping an arm about his neck as she drew him down into his favourite chair. "What, child?" he responded vaguely. "You look utterly worn out. Tell me what's the matter. I'm no longer a child. I'm a woman now--strong and well and brave. Let me help you." "You do help me, baby!" he laughed with an effort at his old-time joyous spirit. "Every time I touch your little hand, you give me new life. Every note from your sweet voice thrills me with new hope. And I dream dreams and build castles and plan for to-morrow as if I were a boy. What more can a woman do? What more did God mean for a beautiful daughter to do for her old father?" "Well, I want to do more, I want to share your troubles and help you carry your burdens."