Seven years passed, leaving their traces, and upon a certain afternoon in August Levi Markham and Matilda sat on the piazza of the Bretherton home and awaited the arrival of Mrs. Olive Treadwell.

Old Bob, Sandy’s collie, lay at Levi’s feet. Bob was fat and full of years; he wore a heavily studded collar with perfect dignity and had, apparently, quite forgotten lean days and promiscuous kicks. Levi could now shuffle his feet with impunity. Bob never suspected ulterior motives and the sight of a broom or club had lost all terrors for him.

Markham did not look any older than he looked seven years ago. Indeed, his interest in Sandy Morley, his pride in that young man’s achievement, and Sandy’s absolute love and loyalty to his benefactor, had done much to relieve Markham of years instead of adding them to him. Matilda had not fared so well. She looked like fragile ware, but she never complained and with quiet courage she went her westering way thankfully.

“Levi is wonderfully softened,” she often thought; “it doesn’t hurt him so much these days to praise instead of blame, and naturally folks respond. It’s mostly on account of Sandy. Levi does so mortally hate to lose that when he wins out he thaws out!”

The broad acres of Bretherton were rich and full of harvest as the old brother and sister waited that afternoon. At last Levi snapped his watch cover and said sharply:

“That three-fifty train is always late! Do you suppose-she-Mrs. Treadwell, will expect to be put up for the night?”

“I hope not,” Matilda replied, knitting away gently with closed eyes. “I’m not one who takes pleasure in folks’ disappointments and I’m glad to say the village inn is comfortable and not over crowded. I can, if it is necessary, tell Mary Jane to put an extra plate on for the evening meal.”

“Wait and see how things turn out,” cautiously advised Levi.

“What time is it now, brother?”

“Two-forty-five! But I put no faith in that train.”

“Was that a letter from Sandy you got in the noon mail?”

“It was, Matilda. I think it would be safe to have an extra plate put on for him.”

Matilda opened her eyes.

“Levi,” she said; “I’m not one to nose about much, but what is the meaning of all this?”

Levi set his lips grimly.

I never knew that Treadwell woman to break in after a long silence but for two things, he replied; either she wants something or she wants to get rid of something. Three years back she asked for help when she found that precious nephew of hers-

“And ours, Levi,” Matilda put in; “we can’t disown him. Blood is blood even if it clots.”

“Well, our nephew, then! When she found young Lansing Treadwell eating up her income, she begged for some scraps of what she pleased to term ‘his mother’s rights!’”

“And you gave them to her, Levi!”

“I couldn’t let Caroline’s boy die in a hole even if Hertford’s son put him there!”

“You speak real comically sometimes, Levi. There are times when I could think Sandy was talking through your voice!”

“Well! well! every man has a streak of the dramatic in him!” Markham’s lips relaxed, “and I must say that to see Sandy Morley and Lans Treadwell good friends without either sensing the true relations of birth and tradition, tickles me through and through. I guess that Treadwell woman would have done her prettiest if she had caught on. But she doesn’t know where Sandy hailed from and she’s covered the Hertford name out of sight for personal grudge, and those two youngsters sailed into each other as if they were steered by Fate and no one interfering. Lans Treadwell can’t get anything but good out of Sandy, and there isn’t a soul living-you and I included-who could draw Morley from his course, so I’ve looked on and chuckled considerably.”

“Brother, I sometimes wonder how it is that you trust Sandy as you do-you never question.”

“Not out loud, ’Tilda.”

“But he does not always explain. Now his working this summer as he has! Every other summer it has been in the mills, but this summer he had to have more money than you gave him. What for, Levi? I ask you flat-footed and not casting any suspicion, but what did he want it for?”

“That’s the reason I’ve asked him down to-night. I want to find out. I never have questioned him over much. When he said he wanted more money I took for granted that he did and so long as he didn’t hint for me to give it, I sort of allowed it wasn’t any of my business. He’s mastered the rudiments at the mills; he’s over twenty-one-just over-and I rather enjoyed seeing him take the bit in his teeth. But I sensed that Mrs. Treadwell was coming to get rid of something to-day and I thought it might be just as well for Sandy to be on hand later. Matilda, if they two lap over each other, you steer Sandy away till I march her off.”

Matilda nodded and again shut her eyes while she knitted her soft wools into a “rainbow scarf.” When she spoke, her thoughts had taken a sudden and new turn.

“I’ll admit, Levi, that Sandy’s clothes set on him as I never saw a man’s clothes set. They are the making of him. He’s terrible good looking-considering!”

“Considering-what?” Markham frowned at the placid face and close-shut eyes. “Considering! ugh! Why, ’Tilda, there is blood running in that boy’s veins that we Americans ought to bow down before! There are times when he looks at me in his big, kind, loving fashion, that I feel as I did the first time the poor little dirty devil raised his eyes to me, only now all that went to the making of the lad seems to be saying, ‘thank you, Markham, and God bless you!’”

“Levi, you’re an awful good man, and time’s mellowing you more than any one would have looked for.”

“Thank you,’Tilda.”

And then for a long time they sat in silence and thought their own thoughts. Bob grunted and turned around facing the brother and sister, blinked, grunted again, and probably thought of Sandy also.

The train that afternoon was on time, and the carriage Markham sent to the station presently appeared bearing Mrs. Treadwell.

Olive Treadwell was handsomer than ever, for her gray hair softened her features and the years had added just enough flesh to her bones to insure grace, not angularity.

“I am going back on the six-two train, Mr. Markham, if you will permit your coachman to take me to the station. Lans and I have a very important engagement this evening.”

Levi gave the order and handed his visitor to a chair.

“Matilda has some iced tea for us,” he said, “and then we will go inside.”

Mrs. Treadwell greeted her hostess and sat languidly down, taking off, as she did so, her long dust coat and displaying an exquisite gown of pale violet.

There was a little desultory conversation, two cups of delicious tea and one of Matilda’s choice sandwiches and then Markham led the way to the library.

Mrs. Treadwell took the deep leather chair, Levi lowered the awning over the west window, and courteously sat down opposite his visitor.

“It is years since we met, Mr. Markham,” Olive Treadwell said; “but you have been very kind to me, meanwhile. I am not one to forget.”

Markham nodded his head and lowered his eyes. After a decent pause Mrs. Treadwell continued, feeling her way through her remarks like a cautious person stepping gingerly over a mental ice pond. She always seemed to leave a subject open to more than one interpretation and by the lifting of Markham’s eyebrows or the raising of his eyes she chose her footing. The raising of his keen eyes under the shaggy brows was very disconcerting and illuminating.

“I know, my dear Mr. Markham, that you are not as worldly as I am; I am confident that along certain lines of conventions we will differ now, as we have in the past, but, being worldly I cannot bear that an injustice should be done that would cause you to act in such a way as to defeat your own aims and ideals.”

The eyebrows went up as if they were on springs, and Mrs. Treadwell leaped to a safer footing.

“Of course, when I refer to worldliness, I mean social worldliness. I have learned, I have been forced to learn, the justice of your once-proposed dealing with my Lans before he went to college. Your business sense cannot be questioned. Had the boy been placed in your hands then, I really believe his outlook on life would have been clearer and finer. He has associated with those who have coloured his views by-well, let us say, artificial lights. Still, the boy is the best of his kind-I will say that for him. I hope I can make you believe that I have come to you to-day entirely for your own best interests-not his!”

And now the steely eyes met the soft brown ones and demanded the nearest approach to truth that Olive Treadwell had to offer. She flushed and went back to her former place of safety and tried again.

“Let us resort to no subterfuge,” she said with a charming smile.

“Thank you,” Levi nodded and again lowered his lids.

To be quite frank, then, what I mean is this: I recognize that you are one of the few men who regard your wealth as a trust; your capacity for acquiring wealth a talent for which you are responsible. As I said before, I feel that had I realized your true motives at the time Lans graduated from preparatory school, I would have been eager to place him in your charge to learn the great business of life and the use of wealth in your way. I made an error; I confess it willingly. Since then I have heard of your wise and private charities-

“I never give charity, madam!”

“You are so modest! Well, your understanding helpfulness.”

“Simply good business, madam.”

“Very well-good business! and that brings me to my point. I have always said that if I must trust myself, my confidence, or my money to anyone, I would choose a person who, by training, instincts, and possibilities most nearly was akin to myself. I sincerely believe inheritance and blood do count. Now just suppose-” Mrs. Treadwell gingerly put her weight on the next footing; “suppose you were obliged to intrust your wealth and future interests to one of two men, would you not feel safer in the hands of the man who, for family reasons and by inherited tastes, could understand you and your ideals?”

“Certainly, madam.”

“You know when a test comes you have to take a good deal for granted in one who has no tie of blood to hold him to you?”

“May I request, madam, that you tell me exactly what you mean in as few words as possible? I see that you are embarrassed by what you have been kind enough to come to tell me-I believe it will help us both if you state your facts without further explanation or preparation.”

The tide had carried Olive Treadwell out into midstream-it was sink or swim now!

“I will do so. I cannot bear to see you duped by your adopted-shall I say, son?”

“I have never held the position of father to young Morley. I’ve helped him to find himself as I have many another young man. He has no reason to dupe me. We understand each other fairly well; better, I think than most old men and young ones.”

“Exactly! That is what you think.”

“It is.”

“Very well, then listen. Remember I would not have come to you if I had not had evidence. You take exception to Lans and his ways of life, I have been informed that you have even called him a-a-libertine!”

“With modifications-yes!”

“I do not ask, Mr. Markham, that you try to withhold your judgments until you know all the facts about my boy. You were never fair to him; you saw him-you see him now-through his father, my poor brother!”

“Madam, for his mother’s sake I have always kept in touch with his career even when I knew he was beyond any caution or judgment of mine. I know that he has shamefully compromised a young woman and quite openly flaunts his relations with her by calling them some new-fangled name. Perhaps I am a narrow-gauge man, madam. All my life I have been obliged to travel from a certain point to a certain point-I’m made that way. I have endeavoured to look about to help my fellow-men, when I could in justice do so, but I have stuck to the tracks that seem to me to lead safely through the land of my journey. I am not interested in branch roads or sidings.”

Mrs. Treadwell was a bit breathless and angry but she was too far from shore yet to indulge in relaxation.

“Lans is not an evil fellow; he is high-minded and will prove himself in due time. I really am only seeking to help you be patient until he has had his opportunity, and not, in the meantime, make a fatal mistake. A new era is about to dawn when men and women, for the good of the race, will attack social conditions from a different plane from what you and I have been taught to consider right. Lans is in the vanguard of this movement-but I only implore you to give him time and while we are waiting let me ask you this-would you be more lenient to-to this protege of yours than you are to Lans, if I could prove to you that he has been hiding his private life from you entirely? Has, apparently, laid himself bare to your confidence and good-will while, in a secret and shameful manner, he has had very disreputable relations with a young woman in Boston?”

Levi Markham took this blow characteristically: he sighed, raised his eyes to the speaker’s face, and said calmly:

“I thank you, madam, for your interest in my affairs. I can readily see that you would not dare come to me with this matter unless you had facts. I appreciate your good-will toward me and Lans, but I am just wondering if this-this relationship of Sandford Morley’s with a-with the young woman, might not be viewed as leniently as Lansing’s-if all were known? He might call it by a new-fangled name, you know.”

Why, Mr. Markham! His intrigue is a low, vulgar thing. That is exactly what I am trying to make you understand. The difference lies right there. Lans is open and above-board; hes a gentleman. This young Morley is-

“Well, well, madam!” Levi held up his hand calmly silencing the indignant voice. “I know Lansing has taken every one into his confidence who chose to lend an ear; we have all shared his life whether we approved or not and I will say this: young Morley has never asked any one to play confessor for him, but I am going to give him an opportunity to speak for himself if he wants to.”

“He will lie, sir.”

“He’s the worst liar you ever saw, Mrs. Treadwell.”

Just how to take this Olive Treadwell did not know. She was distracted. She felt that Markham was playing with her! Perhaps he knew all about Morley’s escapades and preferred them to Lans’ newer ideals.

“You will investigate for yourself?” she pleaded; “in justice to Lans?”

“In my own way, Madam.”

You mean-

“That I will look to my own interests as I always have. When all is said and done, ma’am, there’s no law in the State that confines me to leaving my savings to any particular young man. I have still, I hope, a few years to my credit. I promise you I will devote them to securing the best possible good for the trust, as you so well put it, in my keeping. You are quite right also in saying that I consider the power of money-making a talent. It is my only talent and I do not underestimate it.”

“You are a-hard man, Markham. Time has not softened you.”

“I will still endeavour to be just, madam. I will tell you this-if I discover that I have been duped, I’ll give, outright, a good sum of money to you in trust for Lansing!”

“You think I-I have simply tried to blacken Morley’s character for personal gain?”

“No, no, Mrs. Treadwell. I ascribed the best possible motives to you!”

“Levi Markham-I cannot understand you.”

“Why should you try, madam?”

Olive Treadwell got up and paced the room.

“You humiliate me!” she said angrily. “Of course I desire my brother’s son to inherit rightfully. He will have all that I die possessed of. I am seeking his interests but only justly and humanly. When he first came in contact with this-this investment of yours-as you call him, it was as tutor to this Morley. Consider! tutor, my brother’s son, to your-your waif! And the dear, noble fellow-my Lans, fell in love with him. Has trusted and helped him socially. Why, he made his college life easy for him by his own popularity. Quite by accident I discovered the vulgar intrigue of this-this Morley. I saw him go into a house where a little seamstress of mine lives! I inquired; I found him out; and-and, not for any low gain, but gain in the larger, higher sense I pocketed my pride and came to you as helpless women do come to strong men and you make me feel like a-village scandal-monger!”

“I beg your pardon, madam. I am sorry that my manner suggests this to you. But can you not see that I must master this situation in my own way? I cannot sell out my interest in my investment without reason. Give me a-week-no forty-eight hours!”

“Thank heaven!” Olive Treadwell exclaimed, “there is the carriage. No matter what the outcome of this is, Levi Markham, I reckon you’ll live to thank me for putting you on the right track.”

“I’m still on my narrow gauge, madam.” Markham smiled not unkindly and put out his hand.

“Please bid your sister farewell. I shall not return to Bretherton, I imagine. I will never willingly abase myself again, not even for Lans!”

When she had gone Markham sank into the big leather chair and looked blankly before him. His eyes were fixed across the desk where he himself generally sat, and a kind of pity moved him for the part of him that no one ever knew or suspected. In Sandy Morley, he had realized nearer his yearning and ambition than he ever had before. His paternal instincts had been, to a certain degree, gratified. The boy had seemed so entirely his; had responded so splendidly to his efforts for him. They had grown so close together during the past years in their silent, undemonstrative fashion. Could it be possible that he had been deceived?

And then Markham pulled himself together and went around the desk to his revolving chair. It was as if the stern man of affairs took control and demanded of the doubting creature opposite, common sense and plain justice. “Hold your horses, Levi,” he cautioned; “bide your time. Don’t get scared off. Do you remember that old mine that no one else took stock in? It bought and feathered your first nest! Just you hold to that and keep your mind easy until you get onto the job yourself!”