"But isn't it always for our benefit?" replied his mother.
"Look what a position we have. No one can say there is any taint
on
our money. There are no rumors about your father. He has kept
the laws of God and of man. He has never made any mistakes."
Harold got up from his chair and poked the fire. Then he came
back to
the ample, well-gowned, firm-looking lady, and sat beside her on
the sofa.
He took her hand gently and looked at the two rings--a thin band
of
yellow gold, and a small solitaire diamond--which kept their
place on
her third finger in modest dignity, as if not shamed, but rather
justified,
by the splendor of the emerald which glittered beside them.

"Mother," he said, "you have a wonderful hand. And father made
no mistake
when he won you. But are you sure he has always been so
inerrant?"

"Harold," she exclaimed, a little stiffly, "what do you mean?
His life is an open book."

"Oh," he answered, "I don't mean anything bad, mother dear.
I know the governor's life is an open book--a ledger, if you
like,
kept in the best bookkeeping hand, and always ready for
inspection--every page correct, and showing a handsome balance.