so just as soon as I am convinced that he can take my place."

"Couldn't he do it now?" asked the girl.

"No, I am afraid not," replied Compton. "It is too much to expect of
him, but I believe that in another year he will be able to."

And so Compton put an end to the suggestion that he travel for his
health, and that night when Bince called she told him that she had been
unable to persuade her father that he needed a rest.

"I am afraid," he said "that you don't take it seriously enough
yourself, and that you failed to impress upon him the real gravity of
his condition. It is really necessary that he go--he must go."

The girl looked up quickly at the speaker, whose tones seemed
unnecessarily vehement.

"I don't quite understand," she said, "why you should take the matter so
to heart. Father is the best judge of his own condition, and, while he
may need a rest, I cannot see that he is in any immediate danger."

"Oh, well," replied Bince irritably, "I just wanted him to get away for
his own sake. Of course, it don't mean anything to me."

"What's the matter with you tonight, anyway, Harold?" she asked a half
an hour later. "You're as cross and disagreeable as you can be."

"No, I'm not," he said. "There is nothing the matter with me at all."