Before the child was born, and now since that, there was a difference. Men and women who suffer most from imaginary wrongs may become sane and heroic in times of real danger. Lois, noble, sweet, and brave, thoughtful for Zaidee and Hedge and Justin even while she trembled, excited reverence and a deep and anxious tenderness in her husband. Then, afterwards, he was proud of his second son. When Justin came in at the end of each day and sat down by his wife’s bedside, holding her blue-veined hand while she smiled peacefully at him, there was a sweet, sufficing pleasure about those few minutes, singularly soothing, though the interim had no relation to actual living, except in the fact that one anxiety had been lifted. While the expectant birth of the child had been to her, as it is to almost every woman, a separate and distinct calamitous illness to which she looked forward as one might look forward to being taken with typhoid or diphtheria, he considered it as a manifestation of nature, not in itself dangerous, and her fear that of a child, to be soothed by reason. Still, he had had his moments of a reluctant, twinging fear. One cause for disquieting thought was removed. Now the helplessness of this little family, for whom he was the provider, tugged at a swelling heart. As he walked toward his office to-day somewhat later than was his wont, he diverged from his usual custom—instead of entering his own doorway, he went across the street to Cater’s after a moment’s hesitation. Now that Cater’s cooperation was at the consummating point, it was wiser not to run the risk of its sagging back. Leverich and Martin were keenly for its success, Justin’s credit would rise immeasurably with it. The Typometer Company had absorbed the minor machines with so little trouble that the unabsorbability of the timoscript had seemed an unnecessary stumbling block. Time and time again Justin had sought Cater with tabulated figures and unanswerable arguments. The combination, he firmly believed, would be highly beneficial for both—the field was, in its way, too narrow to be divided with the highest profit; together they could command the trade. Cater was opposed to all combinations as trusts,—a word against which he was principled, with obstinate refusal to differentiate as to kind, quality, or intent. Like many men who are given to a far-seeing philosophy in speech, he was narrow-mindedly cautious when it came to action, apt to be suspicious in the wrong place, and requiring to be continually reassured about conditions which seemed the very a-b-c of commerce. The rivalry between the two firms had been apparently good-natured, yet a little of the sharp edge of competition had shown signs of cutting through the bond. The typometer had put its prices down, and the timoscript had cut under; then the typometer had gone as low as was wise, and the timoscript had begun to weaken in its defenses.