the farther end. The door was open, and Austin sat at the roll-top desk,
which was littered with account books, transfer sheets, and pedigree
cards, typewriting vigorously. He sprang up in surprise.

"Why, Thomas!" he exclaimed cordially. "Where did you drop from? I'm
awfully glad to see you!"

"You damned mean deceitful skunk!" cried the boy, slamming the door
behind him, and ignoring his brother's outstretched hand. "I'd like to
smash every bone in your body until there wasn't a piece as big as a
toothpick left of you! You made me think you didn't care a rap about
her--you said I wasn't worthy of her--that I was an ignorant farmer and
she was a great lady. That's true enough--but I'm just as good as you
are, every bit! I know you've done all sorts of rotten things I never
have! But just the same this is the first time I ever thought that
you--or any Gray--wasn't _square_! And then you write me a letter about
her like that--as if she'd flung herself at your head--_Sylvia_!"

Austin's conscience smote him. He had never seen Thomas's side before;
and neither he nor any other member of the family had guessed how much
their incessant teasing had hurt, or how hard the younger brother had
been hit. In the extremely unsentimental way common in New England, these
two were very fond of each other, and he realized that Thomas's
affection, which was very precious to him, would be gone forever if he
did not set him right at once.

"Look here," he said, forcing Thomas into the swivel chair, and seating
himself on the desk, ignoring the papers that fell fluttering to the
floor, "you listen to me. You've got everything crooked, and it's my
fault, and I'm darned sorry. I never told you I cared for Sylvia, not