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By Frances Elizabeth Lanyon.
(Copyright, 1916, W. G. Chapman.)
"There is the dollar you asked
for," said David Moore, very soberly,
"and it's the last:"-
"What do you mean by last?" de
manded his half-brother, Bruce.
"That the exchequer is exhaust
ed, no more coming in and hereafter
you will have to depend on your own
eertions, or somone else? for mon
ey when you need it"
Bruce Moore looked blank, but he
accepted the extended bank note.
"We might just as well face the is
sue here and now," resumed David.
"Ever since father died, four years
ago, I have stood in the breach, have
done pretty near all the work, and
every extra dollar I have earned from
copying nights for the law offices in
town you and your brother Earle and
your two sisters have used up."
"Yes, you've been a good old
scout," acknowledged Bruce; "but
see here, David, I've got prospects.
You hit me on the poverty plea at a
bad time. You know I am paying at
tention to Miss Byther. She is an
old maid, it is true, and not very
handsome or over agreeable as to
temper, but she owns three farms,
and, well, if you could finance me to
make a respectable showing till I
clinch the bargain, we'll all be out of
High-minded David was disgusted.
He proceeded to inform Bruce that
he could look for nothing more from
"I've done my duty and I'm
through," he said, definitely. "You
have now got to take hold and
earn your own living. Industriously
worked, the little patch here will
bring in a sure living. You have the
free use of it for life and ought to
get, along. I am going away. It's a
shame the way you boys have neg
lected things. There's that poor girl,
Nell Drury. You took her in two
years ago, an orphan, promising to
give her a home. You have made a
slave of her and if it wasn't for the
little I have been able to spare her
she'd be in rags."
Bruce Moore turned on his heel,
sour and wrathfuL David was about
to proceed on his way when his ear
caught a sob in the bushes directly
"Why, Nell!" he exclaimed, parting
the shrubbery and disclosing the
household drudge he had just so feel
ingly alluded to. Nell was standing
There Were Wry and Sullen Faces
with her hands covering her face, the
tears trickling through her fingers.
"I did not mean to hear," she said,
brokenly. "I was just passing by. Oh,
Mr. Moore! Surely you are not going
"Yes, Nell," replied David, serious
ly; "I must I hope they will treat
you more humanely. If they do not,
find some better place. You are
bright, industrious, and, like myself,
one of the world's cross-bearing chil
dren," and he smiled sadly. "Be