cousin and co-trustee came in. Herbert Lansing was a middle-aged
business man, and he was inclined to portliness. His clean-shaven and
rather fleshy face usually wore a good-humored expression; his manners
were easy and, as a rule, genial.

"We must have a talk," he began, indicating the documents in George's
hand. "I suppose you have grasped the position, even if Sylvia hasn't
explained it. She shows an excellent knowledge of details."

There was a hint of dryness in his tone that escaped George's notice.

"So far as I can make out," he answered, "Dick owned a section of a
second-class wheat-land, with a mortgage on the last quarter, some way
back from a railroad. The part under cultivation gives a poor crop."

"What would you value the property at?"

George made a rough calculation.

"I expected something of the kind," Herbert told him. "It's all Sylvia
has to live upon, and the interest would hardly cover her dressmaker's
bills." He looked directly at his cousin. "Of course, it's possible
that she will marry again."

"She must never be forced to contemplate it by any dread of poverty,"
George said shortly.

"How is it to be prevented?"

George merely looked thoughtful and a little stern. Getting no answer,