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 as in this case. But there is always a cause, always a cause."

Marjorie stood still, and then turned and looked back down the road. "There!" she exclaimed, "I got it again. It is something back there. I'll have to go back and see." So she began to retrace her steps, looking carefully to the right and left as she walked. Presently she came to the man, who still sat listlessly gazing out over the valley and its eager workers. Marjorie was passing again, with only a glance, when suddenly she stopped and walked over and stood smiling beside the man. "Isn't it a wonderfully busy scene?" she said.

"Yes," he replied gloomily; "Yes, it is full of activities. I envy them."

"You envy them?" said Marjorie in surprise.

"Yes," he said, "I used to work with just such enthusiasm; but it is all past now."

"Aren't you—aren't you well?" asked Marjorie.

"Oh, yes," he replied, "I'm well enough; but I've lost my grip."

Marjorie looked at him doubtfully; "You mean . . . .?"

"Yes, I've lost my grip. It was at the time of the flood, over in the other valley. I lived over there and the flood came, and everybody got out and worked to save lives and property, but I couldn't; I wasn't any good. I didn't know how