“I want to talk with you about our dear girl,” began Mrs. Higginson. “Of course, if the worst should happen--you understand-------” Here her emotion overcame her for a moment. “You can understand what a shock it has been to me. Mr. H. had not told me of the trouble, and the news that he had failed came like a thunderbolt. I don't mind for myself--but if anything should happen--if the worst--I could go so much--so much easier--if I knew that Mamie was provided for. You will be good to her, John? You will forgive me for calling you John? It is the way Mr. H. always spoke of you at home------” She was obliged to pause again. “I am afraid he will never c--call you John again.” Her handkerchief went up to her eyes; and Halloran sat back and looked hard at a picture of the first Higginson mill, in oils, that hung over the mantel. “I suppose we shall have to sell the house,” she went on, rallying. “You will know best about that, John. I am sure you will act for the best, and save what you can for our little girl. You will be good to her--I am sure you will. She has learned to admire you very much. And when we are--when we are no longer--and the house is gone----” “Nothing of that sort will be necessary,” broke in Halloran, glad to relieve her mind and the gloom at the same time. “The house needn't be sold. I think we shall have the mills running again before so very long.” He saw, as he spoke, that his words struck a discordant note. She looked at him incredulously. “It isn't so bad as it sounds--------” He meant to make it better, but, failing, stopped. “Do you mean that we have been given this shock for nothing?” she asked, with returning strength. The only way out was retreat. He rose, saying, “I hope to have good news for you soon,” and bowed a good-night. He found Mamie sitting on the stairs in the dark with the shawl across her lap. She got up with a little sob and stood back against the rail for him to pass. “Cheer up, Miss Higginson,” he said in a low voice, “It isn't a failure at all. We are getting on as well as we could expect.” She put both hands on the railing to steady herself and looked up at him in amazement. “You don't mean that!” she whispered, “what you said?” He nodded. “You needn't bother about it at all. Everything is all right.” She Still doubted. “But the mills?” “The mills will be running soon.” “Oh, really?” she said, almost wonderingly. “Really?” The sobs were coming again. She caught his hand in both of hers and held it tightly. “Then there isn't any failure--and you are going to save our home for us?” This was frying-pan to fire. Halloran answered hastily: “It won't be necessary to save it. We shall be all right again soon.” His matter-of-fact tone brought her to herself. She released his hand and, suddenly plunged into confusion, hurried upstairs.