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 We've had a bad year. Maybe you know it, maybe you don't. But it's about wrecked the cattle business, for a while anyhow. It looks as though I'll have to take over Potters' end of the L. D. Either that, or—find somebody to buy it."

"If that means me, no," said Henry, unequivocally. "I'm through."

"It's a good ranch. With proper handling, and wheat to fall back on, it's a paying proposition."

"With the cattle failing on good wheat years, and vice versa!"

"I've found a man who doesn't know a bad year for cattle when he meets it."

"Who is it?"

"It happens," said the banker, clearing his throat, "to be your son-in-law, Tom McNair."

Suddenly Henry was very angry. His neck swelled, his face was deeply suffused.

"I regard that as a distinct impertinence, Tulloss. That name is not mentioned in this house. The fellow has wrecked my family; he virtually killed my—killed my wife. He has ruined my daughter's chances for any satisfactory marriage. And you can come here and ask me to discuss him!"

"You don't have to say a word," said Tulloss blandly. "Let me do the talking, Henry. In the first place, I don't put all the blame on Tom, but that's neither here nor there. I didn't come here to quarrel. And when your girl tells me she doesn't want to go back to Tom McNair, I'm ready to hunt up my hat and go away. But I have a sneaking idea, Henry, that the time comes when all a man can do for his children is to help them to be happy. And by the time he's able to do that, generally speaking, he's so old that he's forgotten how."

Henry stirred in his chair.

"I'll ask you this: is Kay happy?"

"Happy? She's just lost her mother."

"I'll change it, then, is she happier here than she would be out West?"