A Hazard of New Fortunes, Part Fifth

that the women of the family seemed glad of her coming, and in the sense of her usefulness to them all she began to feel a kindness even for Christine. But she could not help seeing that between

et, and the girl met him at the door with a kind of country simpleness, and took his hat and stick, and brought him into the room where Mrs. March sat, looking tired and broken. She found this look of Dryfoos's pathetic, and dwelt on the sort of stupefaction there was in it; he must have loved his son more than they ever realized. "Yes," said March, "I suspect he did. He's never been about the place since that day; he was always dropping in before, on his way u

point to us too, Bas

lkerson and I have discussed is a scheme for buying the magazine. Its success is prett

ou sell the house

would be quite a support. But I suppose if Dryfoos won't keep on, it must come to ano

es the magazine will be

elieve Fulkerson would let me stand long betwe

een anything, Basil, to make you really think that

. I shall always wonder what put a backbone into Fulkerson just at t

" said Mrs. March, "and t

e have saved; but the little more wouldn't avail if I were turned out of my place now; and we should have lived sordidly to no purpose. Some one always has you by the throat, unless you have some one else in your grip. I wonder if that's the attitude t

indau to-day?" M

h him, I'm afraid. The amputation doesn't heal very well; the shock was very great, and he's old. It 'll take time. There's so much p

the war, to lose his whole arm now in this way! It does seem too cruel! Of course he oughtn

sing the police to go and cl

s poor Conr

. Nothing less ideal than this satisfies the reason. But in our state of things no one is secure of this. No one is sure of finding work; no one is sure of not losing it. I may have my work taken away from me at any moment by the caprice, the mood, the indigestion of a man who has not the qualification for knowing whether I do it well, or ill. At my time of life-at every time of life-a man ought to feel that if he will keep on doing his duty he shall not suffer in himself or in those who are d

n you look forward to it. But I think people would suffer less, and wouldn't have to work so hard,

and toiling on to the palace or the poor-house. We can't help it. If one were less greedy or less foolish, some one else would have and would shine at his expense. We don't moil and toil to ourselves alone; the palace or the poor-house is not merely for ourselves, but for our children, whom we've brought up in the superstition that having and shining is the chief good. We dare not teach them otherwise, for fear they may falter in the fight when it co

willing to live more simpl

when we were looking for a flat you rejected every building that had a bell-ratchet or a speaking-tube, and would have nothing to do with any that had mor

of the inquiry, "that you are really uneasy about your place? that you are afrai

be merely looking out for himself, if the new Angel had edit

dn't do i

o being uneasy, I'm not, in the least. I've the spirit of a lion, when it comes to such a chance as that. When I see how readily the sensibilities of the passing stranger can be worked in New York, I think of taking up the role of that

gone about, ever since, feeling that one such case in a million, the bare possibi

sented the truth; he was the ideal of the suffering which would be less effective if realistically treated. That man is a great comfort to me. He probably rioted for days on that quarter I gave him; made a dinner very likely, or a champagne supper; and if 'Every Other Week' wants to get rid of me, I intend to work that racket. You can hang round the corner with Bella, and