“I mean, if your time's worth anything to you you're losing money here.” “Then you are not interested------” “Not a bit.” The junior partner of Bigelow & Company, still flushing, rose. “I've made you a square offer------” “And I've refused it.” Babcock stood looking down at Halloran. His eyes were growing smaller; his fingers were restless. For a moment he seemed not to grasp the fact that he had failed. Halloran picked up a letter, then lowered it, and looked up inquiringly. “Now suppose we leave it this way for the present, Mr. Halloran.” He was rallying. “You'd better just think over what I've said. The main thing is to pave the way toward an agreement, and I think we've done that. I'm glad to have had this talk with you. Don't hurry about deciding. Weigh it carefully. Good-by--glad to have seen you.” Halloran gave him a nod and he was gone. It was to be a day rather more than usually eventful. Before he left the office, in the afternoon, Crosman drew him aside. “Would you------?” he began. “Well?” “Will you be home to-night--about eight?” “I think so. Why, anything special?” “N--no. You'll be there sure?” “Sure.” Promptly at eight the doorbell rang and Halloran was called down to the parlour. Entering, he found Crosman, grinning feverishly; and over in the corner, with her back turned, looking at a picture, was Mamie. He looked from one to the other until Mamie turned around and disclosed a very red face. Still no one spoke. The two now gazed appealingly at each other, and finally it was Mamie who broke the silence with a preliminary giggle. “I guess--I guess you can congratulate us, Mr. Halloran.” Coming so suddenly, even this bold statement did not sink at once into Halloran's consciousness. But at last, after a painful pause, he recollected himself and shook hands cordially. And then the story had to be told in detail. It was all a secret, for Mrs. Higginson had not yet learned to understand Harry as she would when she came to know him as one of the family. During the worst of her father's illness Mamie would not consent, but now that the crisis was turned she had--“Well, she had supposed she might as well.” “We wanted you to know it,” she said. “And it's going to be a secret between just you and us. We thought maybe--you--maybe you'd be glad, too.” But for some reason it did not have that effect; for an hour later, when Halloran was striding up the beach to the north, heedless of the waves that ran up about his feet, of the west wind that slapped his face and tugged at his coat, he wore a far from glad expression. And not until he had fallen into step with the night patrol from the life-saving station, and had swapped yams of the old Inspector and the Beebe-McClellan boat and the capsize-drill records, and had learned precisely why the Wauchung Station was the most abused and discriminated against in the whole U. S. L. S. S., did he seem a little more composed. CHAPTER IV--Twelve, Midnight