even when you give it away?"

"It's not for me to say why not--and yet I can think of cases--"

The young man hesitated for a moment. His half-finished cigar
had
gone out. He rose and tossed it into the fire, in front of which

he remained standing--a slender, eager, restless young figure,
with a touch of hunger in the fine face, strangely like and
unlike
the father, at whom he looked with half-wistful curiosity.

"The fact is, sir," he continued, "there is such a case in my
mind now,
and it is a good deal on my heart, too. So I thought of speaking
to you
about it to-night. You remember Tom Rollins, the Junior who was
so good to me when I entered college?"

The father nodded. He remembered very well indeed the annoying
incidents
of his son's first escapade, and how Rollins had stood by him and
helped to
avoid a public disgrace, and how a close friendship had grown
between
the two boys, so different in their fortunes.

"Yes," he said, "I remember him. He was a promising young man.
Has he succeeded?"