I have of her is that she would be more likely to resent than to accept any gratuity from either Mr. Malleson or you. Nevertheless, I will keep your offer in mind, and I will present it to her if it should appear to be desirable to do so."
"Thank you!"
The rector again turned away, but he did not get to Factory Hill that morning. Before he had gone two blocks from Westgate's office a parishioner came hurrying after him and besought him to go to see a sick girl living in another suburb of the city, a girl who felt that she could not close her eyes to the scenes of earth until she had bared her soul to the rector of Christ Church. So he went to her.
The Reverend Mr. Farrar was not the only one who discovered in the morning paper a notice of John Bradley's death. Barry Malleson came upon it accidentally, as he came upon most other things of any moment, and it at once aroused his deep interest. He was at his desk in the president's office at the factory, where he could be found practically every working day during office hours. His name appeared in the list of officers of the Malleson Manufacturing Company as vice-president. Some one said that it did no harm, and it tickled Barry's vanity. His salary was quite satisfactory. His duties were not accurately defined, although they appeared to consist largely in obeying the president's will, as a matter of fact, and of sustaining the burden of the conduct of the company's affairs as a matter of personal belief. His father would have found it difficult to get along without him. He would have found it impossible to get along without his father. That Barry had his uses there can be no possible doubt. He was replete with suggestion, and that his suggestions were rarely acted upon never deterred nor discouraged him. He had a suggestion to make this morning in connection with John Bradley's death. It came into his mind simultaneously with the reading of
