Spring had come. The silvery air was soft with promises of leaf and bud. Invitation to Festival and Adventure was in the gold-flecked sunlight. Nature stood on tiptoe, ready for carnival, waiting for the opening measures of the ecstatic music of life’s renewal.

The remote stillness of the great library had given place to the faint sounds of the vernal world. A robin preened himself at an open casement, cast a calculating eye at the priceless art treasures of the place, scorned them as useless for his needs, and fluttered away to an antique marble bench in the walled garden, wherefrom he might watch for worms, or hop to the Greek sarcophagus and take a bath in accumulated rainwater.

Marcus Gard, outwardly his determined, unbending self again, sat before his laden table, slave as ever to his tasks. Nine strokes chimed from the Gothic clock in the hall; already his busy day had begun.

Denning entered unannounced, as was his special privilege, and stood for a moment in silence, looking at his friend. Gard acknowledged his presence with a cordial nod, and continued to glance over and sign the typewritten notes before him. At last he put down his pen and settled back in his chair.

“Well, old friend, how goes it?” he inquired, smiling.

Denning nodded. “Fine, thank you. I thought I’d find you here. I was in consultation with Langley last night, and we have decided we are in a position now to go ahead as we first planned over a year ago. The opposition in Washington has been deflected. Besides, Langley dug up a point of law.”

Gard rose and crossed to Denning. His manner was quietly conversational, and he twirled his pince-nez absently.

“My dear man,” he said slowly, “you will have to adjust yourself to a shock. We will stick to the understanding as expressed in our interviews of last February, whether Mr. Langley has dug up a point of law or not. In short, Denning, we are not in future doing business in the old way.”

“But you don’t understand,” gasped the other. “Langley says that it lets us completely out. They can’t attack us under that ruling can’t you see?”

“Quite so yes. I can imagine the situation perfectly. But we entered into certain obligations understandings, if you will and we are going to live up to them, whether we could climb out of them or not.”

Denning sat down heavily.

“Well, I’ll be Why, it’s no different from our position in the river franchise matter, not in the least and we did pretty well with that, as you know.”

Gard nodded. “Yes, we are practically in the same position, as you say. The position is the same but we are different. I suppose you’ve heard a number of adages concerning the irresponsibility of corporations? Well, we are going to change all that. I fancy you have already noticed a different method in our mercantile madness, and you will notice it still more in the future.”

Denning pulled his mustache violently, a token with him of complete bewilderment.

“H’m er exactly,” he murmured. “Of course, if that’s the way you feel now and you have your reasons, I suppose I’ll call Langley up. He’ll be horribly disappointed, though. He’s pluming himself on landing this quick getaway for you. He’s been staking out the whole plan.”

Gard chuckled. “Do you remember, Denning, how hard you worked to make me go to Washington and how my ‘duty to our stockholders’ was your favorite weapon? Where has all that noble enthusiasm gone eh?”

Denning blushed. “But we were in a very dangerous hole. Things are different now.”

“Yes,” said Gard with finality, “they are don’t forget it.”

“Well,” and Denning rose, discomfited, “I’m going. Three o’clock, Gard, the directors’ meeting. I’ll see you then.”

He shook hands and turned to the door, paused, turned again as if to reopen the subject, checked himself and went out.

As the door closed Gard chuckled. “I bet he’s cracking his skull to find out my game,” he thought with amusement. “By the time he reaches the office, he’ll have worked it out that I’m more far-sighted than the rest of them, and am making character; that I’m trying to do business by the Ten Commandments will never occur to him.” He returned to the table and resumed his task, paused and sat gazing absently at the contorted inkwells.

His secretary entered quietly, a sheaf of letters in his hand.

“Saunders,” said Marcus Gard, not raising his eyes from their absorbed contemplation, “did you ever let yourself imagine how hard it is to do business in a strictly honest manner, when the whole world seems to have lost the habit if it ever had the habit?”

Saunders looked puzzled. “I don’t know, sir. Mr. Mahr is in the hall and wants to see you,” he added, glad to change the subject.

“Is he? Good. Tell him to come in.” Gard rose with cordial welcome as Teddy entered.

There was an air of responsibility about the younger man, calmness, observation and concentration, very different from his former light-hearted, easy-mannered boyishness. Gard’s greeting was affectionate. “Well, boy, what brings you out so early? Taking your responsibilities seriously? And in what can I help you?”

Teddy blushed. “Mr. Gard,” he said, hurrying his words with embarrassment, “I wish you’d let me give you the Vandyke please do. I don’t want to sell it to you. Duveen’s men are bringing it over to you this morning; they are on their way now. I want you to have it. I I ” He looked up and gazed frankly in the older man’s face, unashamed of the mist of tears that blinded him. “I know father would want you to have it. And I know, Mr. Gard, what you did to shield his memory. If you hadn’t gone to Field if you hadn’t taken the matter in charge ” He choked and broke off. “I don’t know anything but you handled the situation as I could not. Please won’t you take the Vandyke?”

Gard’s hand fell on the boy’s shoulder with impressive kindliness. “No,” he said quietly, “I can’t do that, much as I appreciate your wanting to give it to me. I have a sentiment, a feeling about that picture. It isn’t the collector’s passion I want it to remind me daily of certain things, things that you’d think I’d want to forget but not I. I want that picture ’In Memoriam’ that’s why I asked you to let me have it; and I want it by purchase. Don’t question my decision any more, Teddy. You’ll find a cheque at your office, that’s all.” He turned and indicated a space on the velvet-hung wall, where a reflector and electric lights had been installed. “It’s to hang there, Teddy, where I can see it as I sit. It is to dominate my life how much you can never guess. Will you stay with me now, and help me to receive it?”

Teddy was obviously disappointed. “I can’t I’m sorry. I ought to be at the office now; but I did so want to make one last appeal to you. Anyway, Mr. Gard, your cheque will go to enrich the Metropolitan purchase fund.”

“That’s no concern of mine,” Gard laughed. “You can’t make me the donor, you know. How is Dorothy to change the subject!”

“What she always is,” the boy beamed, “the best and sweetest. My, but I’m glad she is back! And Mrs. Marteen, she’s herself again. You’ve seen them, of course?”

Gard nodded. “I met them at the train last night. Yes she is herself.”

“She had an awful close call!” Teddy exclaimed, his face grown grave.

There was reminiscent silence for a moment. With an active swing of his athletic body, Dorothy’s adorer collected his hat, gloves and cane in one sweep, spun on his heel with gleeful ease, smiled his sudden sunny smile, and waved a quick good-by.