"I understand," he nodded gravely. And yet--it was not of Herbert that he talked during the next ten minutes. It was of Mrs. Raymond and her daughter, of their life at home and at the store. It was a gay ten minutes, for the man laughed at the whimsical playfulness with which Miss Raymond set off the pitiful little tale of the daily struggle for existence. If he detected the nervousness in the telling, he did not show it. He did frown once; but that was when Herbert's mother sighed apologetically:-- "You must n't mind all she says, Mr. Carroll. Helen never did seem to realize the serious side of life, nor what I suffer; but that is Helen's way." "After all, it must be a way that helps smooth things over some," he had retorted warmly. And there the matter had ended--except in Helen's memory: there it bade fair to remain long, indeed. At the end of the ten minutes, Herbert's friend rose to his feet and said that he must go. He added that he would come again, if he might; and to Miss Raymond he said very low--but very impressively--that she would see him soon, very soon. It was no surprise, therefore, to Helen, to encounter the big, tall fellow not twenty feet from her doorway when she started for the store the next morning. His clean-cut face flushed painfully as he advanced; but the girl did not change color. "Good-morning. I thought you'd do this," she began hurriedly. "We can talk as we walk. Now, tell me, please, quick. What is it about--Herbert?" "Then you--know?" "Not much; only suspect. I know everything is n't quite--right." "But your mother doesn't know--even that much?" "No, no! You saw that, didn't you? I was so glad you did, and did n't speak! He is her pet, and she's so proud of him!" "Yes, I know," nodded the man grimly. "I saw--that." The girl lifted her chin. "And mother has a right to be proud of him. Herbert is fine. It is only that--that--" She weakened perceptibly. "Was it--money?" she faltered. "Y-yes." Carroll spoke with evident reluctance. His eyes looked down almost tenderly at the girl with the still bravely uptilted chin. "It--it is rather serious this time. He asked me to call and--and make it plain to you. I had told him I was coming up to town on business, and I promised. But--good Heavens, Miss Raymond, I--I can't tell you!" "But you must. I'll have to know," cried the girl sharply. All the pride had fled now. "And you need n't fear. I know what it is. He wants money to settle debts. I've sent it before--once. That is it--that _is_ it?" "Yes, only it's--it's a particularly bad job this time," stammered the other. "You see, it--it's club money--a little club among the boys, of which he is treasurer--and he sto--used part of the--funds."