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"Go on with yer proof," Rodney insisted, his great right hand trembling as he whittled. "There are plenty of men in Albany that know the facts," said the stranger. "Any other proof to offer?" "That's enough." "Oh, I see, ye can't prove it to-day, but ye don't mind sayin' it to-day. Say, mister, where do you live?" "None o' your dam' business."

He's written me a letter, saying he will try to pay me back some day. I think he will. He isn't a bad man, but he has been unlucky." Mike, at the request of Mr. O'Connor, showed Rodney a locker in which he could store such articles of clothing as he had with him. After that he felt more at home, and as if he were staying at a hotel though an humble one.

Rodney read this like one dazed. In an instant he was reduced from the position of a favorite of fortune to a needy boy, with his living to make. He could not help recalling what had passed between his friend David and himself earlier in the day.

"What I didn't hear of it myself, Emily told me afterward, for we are very confidential. "The whole house was intensely interested in the dénouement. Rodney sat stolidly at his table, crunching his food, gazing reproachfully and adoringly at Emily's proudly lifted head. Emily, for all her unconsciousness of physical necessity, lost her appetite, and grew pale.

All these were junior to Rodney; and, as though to emphasize the neglect of him, rear-admirals were sent to the two West India stations, Jamaica and the Leeward Islands, which he had formerly commanded, and to which it would seem, from one of his letters, that he desired to return.

"Well, I'm glad, because I don't see what you want to cumber yourself with all those cushions and rugs for. You're quite comfortable enough without them." Peter said, "Thomas and I wanted nice things to look at. We were tired of horse-hair and 'Grace Sufficient'. Thomas is fastidious." Rodney put a large finger on Thomas' head. "Thomas isn't such a fool.... Hullo, there's another of you."

"Here is something that concerns you, Rodney," he said. "It doesn't appear to be from a friend of yours." With some curiosity Rodney took the letter and read it. It ran thus: Mr. JOHN SARGENT: DEAR SIR I think it my duty to write and tell you something about your son's tutor something that will surprise and shock you. Before he entered your house he was employed by a firm on Reade Street.

William Rodney listened with a curious lifting of his upper lip, although his face was still quivering slightly with emotion. "Idiot!" he whispered. "He's misunderstood every word I said!" "Well then, answer him," Katharine whispered back. "No, I shan't! They'd only laugh at me. Why did I let you persuade me that these sort of people care for literature?" he continued.

Trust to luck; stare Fate in the face, and your heart will be aisy if it's in the right place." If Mrs. Merrick was surprised or suspected anything when Rodney put the letters into her stove and stood over them long enough to see them reduced to ashes, she made no remark.

"I am short a good horse by last night's work, and suppose I shall have to take Percival's to replace him, won't I?" said the latter. "It's that or go afoot, isn't it?" "I suppose it is," replied the Emergency man. "What sort of an animal is he and where is he?" continued Rodney. "I should like to have a look at him." "He's out in the yard with the rest of the critters," said Nels.

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