Mrs. Barker curled her pretty lip. “It doesn't take very long to lend ten thousand dollars!” she said. “But that's what I always tell you. You have about made me sick by singing the praises of those wonderful partners of yours, and here you ask a favor of one of them and he tells you to sell your securities! And you know, and he knows, they're worth next to nothing.” “You don't understand, dear”--began Barker. “I understand that you've given your word to poor Harry,” said Mrs. Barker in pretty indignation, “who's responsible for the Ditch purchase.” “And I shall keep it. I always do,” said Barker very quietly, but with that same singular expression of face that had puzzled Stacy. But Mrs. Barker, who, perhaps, knew her husband better, said in an altered voice:-- “But HOW can you, dear?” “If I'm short a thousand or two I'll ask your father.” Mrs. Barker was silent. “Father's so very much harried now, George. Why don't you simply throw the whole thing up?” “But I've given my word to your cousin Henry.” “Yes, but only your WORD. There was no written agreement. And you couldn't even hold him to it.” Barker opened his frank eyes in astonishment. Her own cousin, too! And they were Stacy's very words! “Besides,” added Mrs. Barker audaciously, “he could get rid of it elsewhere. He had another offer, but he thought yours the best. So don't be silly.” By this time they had reached their rooms. Barker, apparently dismissing the subject from his mind with characteristic buoyancy, turned into the bedroom and walked smilingly towards a small crib which stood in the corner. “Why, he's gone!” he said in some dismay. “Well,” said Mrs. Barker a little impatiently, “you didn't expect me to take him into the public parlor, where I was seeing visitors, did you? I sent him out with the nurse into the lower hall to play with the other children.” A shade momentarily passed over Barker's face. He always looked forward to meeting the child when he came back. He had a belief, based on no grounds whatever, that the little creature understood him. And he had a father's doubt of the wholesomeness of other people's children who were born into the world indiscriminately and not under the exceptional conditions of his own. “I'll go and fetch him,” he said. “You haven't told me anything about your interview; what you did and what your good friend Stacy said,” said Mrs. Barker, dropping languidly into a chair. “And really if you are simply running away again after that child, I might just as well have asked Captain Heath to stay longer.”