a baby himself, and then pushed him out into the hungry street at dinner time, was the first one who beckoned him now, willing to make the most of his dollar and a quarter a week.  It seemed easy enough to rise from uttermost poverty and dependence to where one could set his mind upon the highest honor in sight, that of being agent of the mills, or to work one’s way steadily to where such an honor was grasped at thirty-two.  Every year the horizon had set its bounds wider and wider, until the mills of Farley held but a small place in the manufacturing world.  There were offers enough of more salary and higher position from those who came to know the agent, but he was part of Farley itself, and had come to care deeply about his neighbors, while a larger mill and salary were not exactly the things that could tempt his ambition.  It was but a lonely life for a man in the old agent’s quarters where one of the widows of the Corporation, a woman who had been brought up in a gentleman’s house in the old country, kept house for him with a certain show of propriety.  Ever since he was a boy his room was never without its late evening light, and books and hard study made his chief companionship.

As Mrs. Kilpatrick went home holding little Maggie by the hand that windy noon, the agent was sitting in the company’s counting-room with one of the directors and largest stockholders, and they were just ending a long talk about the mill affairs.  The agent was about forty years old now and looked fifty.  He had a pleasant smile, but one saw it rarely enough, and just now he looked more serious than usual.

“I am very glad to have had this long talk with you,” said the old director.  “You do not think of any other recommendations to be made at the meeting next week?”

The agent grew a trifle paler and glanced behind him to be sure that the clerks had gone to dinner.

“Not in regard to details,” he answered gravely.  “There is one thing which I see to be very important.  You have seen the books, and are clear that nine per cent. dividend can easily be declared?”

“Very creditable, very creditable,” agreed the director; he had recognized the agent’s ability from the first and always upheld him generously.  “I mean to propose a special vote of thanks for your management.  There isn’t a minor corporation in New England that stands so well to-day.”

The agent listened.  “We had some advantages, partly by accident and partly by lucky foresight,” he acknowledged.  “I am going to ask your backing in something that seems to me not only just but important.  I hope that you will not declare above a six per cent. dividend at that directors’ meeting; at the most, seven per cent.,” he said.

“What, what!” exclaimed the listener.  “No, sir!”

The agent left his desk-chair and stood before the old director as if he were pleading for himself.  A look of protest and disappointment changed the elder man’s face and hardened it a little, and the agent saw it.