that gratified his vanity. He lived to get what he
wanted; he got it every day and every hour of a life
into which no rain ever fell; he died, honored, respected,
beloved, and lamented.

The clever trick he had played upon his fellow
beings came very near to discovery a few days after
his death. His widow and her son and daughter-in-law
and daughter were in the living-room of the charming
house at Hanging Rock, near New York, alternating
between sorrowings over the dead man and plannings
for the future. Said the widow:

``If Henry had only thought what would become of
us if he were taken away!''

``If he had saved even a small part of what he made
every year from the time he was twenty-six--for he
always made a big income,'' said his son, Frank.

``But he was so generous, so soft-hearted!''
exclaimed the widow. ``He could deny us nothing.''

``He couldn't bear seeing us with the slightest wish
ungratified,'' said Frank.

``He was the best father that ever lived!'' cried the
daughter, Mildred.

And Mrs. Gower the elder and Mrs. Gower the