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 father. Cousin Oliver tried to get into service everywhere, but no one would take him; he knew father wanted to go, so he agreed to see everything through for father while he'd be away and, if father was killed, cousin Oliver promised to complete all this work."

"All right; let me see the agreement."

"I haven't it."

"A copy will do."

"It never was written; it was just verbal; that was all father cared about from cousin Oliver—that he said it and that cousin Agnes knew about it, too. You see he never could imagine that cousin Oliver and cousin Agnes, and he, himself, would all die. It seemed safe. Besides, it wasn't the sort of promise you could write up in an agreement."

"No, I suppose not. But now that Oliver and his wife both are dead, where are you?"

The blood flashed again, burning, into Ethel's face. "Why I'm here, grandfather, asking the money from you."

"I'll not give it to you on that showing."

"I ask you to lend, not to give."

"Why don't you go to a bank, then?"

"I've been to banks; they say they can't lend upon uncompleted projects like mine."

"You've been to your uncles?"

"I saw uncle Lucas in Chicago."

"What did he say?"

"He refused me."

"So you came to work upon my natural affections for you?"

"Yes," Ethel said. "Yes; I suppose you may say I've done that."

Her grandfather slowly drew his leg back from the