The doctor laughed as he held his arms more closely about the shoulders of
Senator Aldis's two eldest boys; while "Grandmother Layton," with little
Ted in her lap, was dreaming again of the little form that had long, long
ago been laid in the graveyard on the hillside.

"Yes, yes," said the doctor, "I remember. What a blessed thing it was I did
not send you off that day to the tune the old cow died on," and he laughed
through his tears.

"Blessed!" echoed Mrs. Layton, putting down the wriggling Ted. "It was
providential. You know, Harry, I was not so kind-hearted as John in those
days and I thought he ought to send you off. But he declared he would not,
even if you had cost him two cows. He said that if he did it might cost the
world a man. And so it would have, if all they say you are doing out West
for clean government is true."

Senator Aldis laughed, and kissed the old lady.

"I do not know about that," he said modestly. "I am of the opinion that he
might have saved more of a man for the world; but certain it is, he saved
whatever manhood there was in that boy from going to waste by his noble act
of kindness. But what I remember most, father, is what you told me, there
at the carriage step, that when I became a rich man, I could pay you for
that cow. Well, I am not exactly a rich man, for I am not in politics for
all the money I can get out of it, but I am getting a better income than my
leaving that barn door open would justify any one in believing I ever could
get by my brains; so now I can pay that long-standing debt without
inconvenience. It may come handy for you to have a little fund laid by,
since the Union Bank went to smash, and all your stock with it, and so much