the Verneys, and Ruth was a Verney from the crown of her dark head to
the tips of her small feet. Catching up Grandmother Verney's long
cloak hanging over a chair, she softly left the house.

Dick, struggling into his overcoat, turned at the Major's touch on his
arm.

"Just a minute, Dick." Major Verney's genial voice was sympathetic as
a woman's. "Remember that what the Colonel refused in prosperity he's
not likely to take in adversity. Sit down here by the fire until we
talk it over."

"But, Major"--there was a note of anguish in the boy's voice--"I must
go to him. Think of Uncle Noah selling himself to help them, and I--"

But the Major had already removed the overcoat and gently pushed his
guest into a chair by the fire. "Yes, yes," he said as he seated
himself; "we know all about that, my boy; but I'm afraid, Dick," he
added regretfully, "that the Colonel wouldn't let you in. He's very
bitter."

Dick groaned. He was calmer now. "You're right, Major," he said
steadily; "it hurt so at first that I didn't think. I can't go now."
He leaned forward anxiously. "The Cotesville Bank--?" he questioned
abruptly.

"Crashed in the autumn--in September." Dick bit his lip, and the Major
added: "He was heavily interested?"

Dick stared at the fire. "It was all he had," he said.