"I'm not a competent witness," I answered. "I'll be

frank with you: I don't like him; I don't believe in

him."

"Oh! I beg your pardon. I didn't know, of course."

"The subject is not painful to me," I hastened to

add, "though he was always rather thrust before me as

an ideal back in my youth, and you know how fatal that

is. And then the gods of success have opened all the

gates for him."

"Yes,-and yet-"

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"And yet-" I repeated. Stoddard lifted a glass of

sherry to the light and studied it for a moment. He did

not drink wine, but was not, I found, afraid to look

at it.

"And yet," he said, putting down the glass and speaking

slowly, "when the gates of good fortune open too

readily and smoothly, they may close sometimes rather

too quickly and snap a man's coat-tails. Please don't

think I'm going to afflict you with shavings of wisdom

from the shop-floor, but life wasn't intended to be too

easy. The spirit of man needs arresting and chastening.

It doesn't flourish under too much fostering or

too much of what we call good luck. I'm disposed to

be afraid of good luck."

"I've never tried it," I said laughingly.

"I am not looking for it," and he spoke soberly.

I could not talk of Pickering with Bates-the masked

beggar!-in the room, so I changed the subject.

"I suppose you impose penances, prescribe discipline

for the girls at St. Agatha's,-an agreeable exercise of

the priestly office, I should say!"

His laugh was pleasant and rang true. I was liking

him better the more I saw of him.

"Bless you, no! I am not venerable enough. The

Sisters attend to all that,-and a fine company of

women they are!"

"But there must be obstinate cases. One of the

young ladies confided to me-I tell you this in cloistral

confidence-that she was being deported for insubordination."

"Ah, that must be Olivia! Well, her case is different.

She is not one girl,-she is many kinds of a girl

in one. I fear Sister Theresa lost her patience and

hardened her heart."

"I should like to intercede for Miss Armstrong," I

declared.

The surprise showed in his face, and I added: "Pray don't misunderstand me. We met under

rather curious circumstances, Miss Armstrong and I."

"She is usually met under rather unconventional circumstances,

I believe," he remarked dryly. "My introduction

to her came through the kitten she smuggled

into the alms box of the chapel. It took me two days

to find it."

He smiled ruefully at the recollection.

"She's a young woman of spirit," I declared defensively.

"She simply must find an outlet for the joy of

youth,-paddling a canoe, chasing rabbits through the

snow, placing kittens in durance vile. But she's demure

enough when she pleases,-and a satisfaction to

the eye."




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