“Say, Mr. Gale,” John asked him, “how about this letter—­the one you dictated this morning to that firm about your house?” Roger turned and looked at him.

“Throw it into the basket,” he said.  “We’ll write ’em another to-morrow and tell ’em we have changed our minds.”  He paused for just a moment, and then he added brusquely, “If this goes through as I hope it will, I guess you’d better come into the firm.”

And he left the room abruptly.  Behind him there was not a sound.

* * * * *

At home in his study, that evening, he made some more calculations.  In a few weeks he would have money enough to start Edith and her family in their new life on the farm.  For the present at least, the house was safe.

“Why, father.”  Edith came into the room.  “I didn’t know you had come home.  What kept you so long at the office?”

“Oh, business, my dear—­”

“Have you had any supper?”

“No, and I’d like some,” he replied.

“I’ll see to it myself,” she said.  Edith was good at this sort of thing, and the supper she brought was delicious.  He ate it with keen relish.  Then he went back to his study and picked up a book, an old favorite.  He started to read, but presently dozed.  The book dropped from his hands and he fell asleep.

He awakened with a start, and saw Deborah looking down at him.  For a moment he stared up, as he came to his senses, and in his daughter’s clear gray eyes he thought he saw a happiness which set his heart to beating fast.

“Well?” he questioned huskily.

“We’re to be married right away.”

He stared a moment longer; “Oh, I’m so glad, so glad, my dear.  I was afraid you—­” he stopped short.  Deborah bent close to him, and he felt her squeeze his arm: 

“I’ve been over and over all you said,” she told him, in a low sweet voice.  “I had a good many ups and downs.  But I’m all through now—­I’m sure you were right.”  And she pressed her cheek to his.  “Oh, dad, dad—­it’s such a relief!  And I’m so happy!...  Thank you, dear.”

“Where is Allan?” he asked presently.

“I’ll get him,” she said.  She left the room, and in a moment Allan’s tall ungainly form appeared in the doorway.

“Well, Allan, my boy,” Roger cried.

“Oh, Roger Gale,” said Allan softly.  He was wringing Roger’s hand.

“So she decided to risk you, eh,” Roger said unsteadily.  “Well, Baird, you look like a devilish risk for a woman like her—­who has the whole world on her back as it is—­”

“I know—­I know—­and how rash she has been!  Only two years and her mind was made up!”

“But that’s like her—­that’s our Deborah—­always acting like a flash—­”

“Stop acting like children!” Deborah cried.  “And be sensible and listen to me!  We’re to be married to-morrow morning—­”

“Why to-morrow?” Roger asked.

“Because,” she said decidedly, “there has been enough fuss over this affair.  So we’ll just be married and have it done.  And when Edith and the children go up next week to the mountains, we want to move right into this house.”