These excitements were generally in the small hours of the morning. By day, he was less cheerful.

"I'm all in, Jennie darling," he would say then. "I don't suppose I'll ever get a chance to do a day's work again."

But one hot afternoon in the middle of July he woke from a long sleep with a look that startled her. Jennie had never seen the approach of death, but, now that she did, she knew it could be nothing else. He had simply rolled over on his back, staring upward with eyes that had become curiously glassy and sightless. Jennie ran to the head of the stairs.

"Momma! Momma! Come quick!"

He said nothing till Lizzie had reached the bedside. Though he didn't move his head or look toward her, he seemed to know that she was there.

"Here's mother, Lizzie." He raised his hands, while a look of glad surprise stole over his face. "There's a country," he stammered on, brokenly, "no, it isn't a country—it's like a town—they're working—they've got work for me—and—and they're never—they're never—fired."

The hands fell, but the look of glad surprise was only shut out of sight by the coffin lid.

Teddy paid for the lot in the cemetery, as well as the other expenses of the funeral, within a week of his father's death. "Now I'm through," he said to himself, with a long sigh of relief.

"You darling Ted," was Jennie's commendation. "You must have given momma five hundred dollars at least. Now I hope you'll be able to save a little for yourself."

At the bank, Teddy's younger colleagues were sympathetic, Lobley especially doing him kindly little turns. He asked him to supper one evening at a restaurant, where they talked of marksmanship, at which Teddy had been proficient in the navy. He was out of practice now, he said, to which Lobley had replied that it was a pity. He, Lobley, had an automatic pistol illegally at home, and if Teddy would like to borrow it he could soon bring himself back to his old form. Teddy did so like, and went back to Pemberton Heights with the thing secreted on his person. It went with him to the bank next day—and every day.