"Hello, Dad!"After the attorney's departure, Gilder had been rather fussilygoing over some of the papers on his desk. He was experiencing avague feeling of injury on account of the lawyer's ill-veiledefforts to arouse his sympathy in behalf of the accused girl. Inthe instinct of strengthening himself against the possibility ofyielding to what he deemed weakness, the magnate rehearsed thefacts that justified his intolerance, and, indeed, soon came togloating over the admirable manner in which righteousness thrivesin the world. And it was then that an interruption came in theutterance of two words, words of affection, of love, cried out inthe one voice he most longed to hear--for the voice was that ofhis son. Yet, he did not look up. The thing was altogetherimpossible! The boy was philandering, junketing, somewhere on theRiviera. His first intimation as to the exact place would comein the form of a cable asking for money. Somehow, his feelingshad been unduly stirred that morning; he had grown sentimental,dreaming of pleasant things.... All this in a second. Then, helooked up. Why, it was true! It was Dick's face there, smilingin the doorway. Yes, it was Dick, it was Dick himself! Gildersprang to his feet, his face suddenly grown younger, radiant.

　　"Dick!" The big voice was softened to exquisite tenderness.

　　As the eyes of the two met, the boy rushed forward, and in thenext moment the hands of father and son clasped firmly. Theywere silent in the first emotion of their greeting. Presently,Gilder spoke, with an effort toward harshness in his voice tomask how much he was shaken. But the tones rang more kindly thanany he had used for many a day, tremulous with affection.

　　"What brought you back?" he demanded.

　　Dick, too, had felt the tension of an emotion far beyond that ofthe usual things. He was forced to clear his throat before heanswered with that assumption of nonchalance which he regarded asbefitting the occasion.

　　"Why, I just wanted to come back home," he said; lightly. Asudden recollection came to give him poise in this time ofemotional disturbance, and he added hastily: "And, for the loveof heaven, give Sadie five dollars. I borrowed it from her to paythe taxi'. You see, Dad, I'm broke.""Of course!" With the saying, Edward Gilder roared Gargantuanlaughter. In the burst of merriment, his pent feelings foundtheir vent. He was still chuckling when he spoke, sage from muchexperience of ocean travel. "Poker on the ship, I suppose."The young man, too, smiled reminiscently as he answered:

　　"No, not that, though I did have a little run in at Monte Carlo.

　　But it was the ship that finished me, at that. You see, Dad,they hired Captain Kidd and a bunch of pirates as stewards, andwhat they did to little Richard was something fierce. And yet,that wasn't the real trouble, either. The fact is, I justnaturally went broke. Not a hard thing to do on the other side.""Nor on this," the father interjected, dryly.

　　"Anyhow, it doesn't matter much," Dick replied, quite unabashed.

　　"Tell me, Dad, how goes it?"Gilder settled himself again in his chair, and gazed benignantlyon his son.

　　"Pretty well," he said contentedly; "pretty well, son. I'm gladto see you home again, my boy." There was a great tenderness inthe usually rather cold gray eyes.

　　The young man answered promptly, with delight in his manner ofspeech, and a sincerity that revealed the underlying merit of hisnature.

　　"And I'm glad to be home, Dad, to be"--there was again thatclearing of the throat, but he finished bravely--"with you."The father avoided a threatening display of emotion by an abruptchange of subject to the trite.

　　"Have a good time?" he inquired casually, while fumbling withthe papers on the desk.

　　Dick's face broke in a smile of reminiscent happiness.

　　"The time of my young life!" He paused, and the smile broadened.

　　There was a mighty enthusiasm in his voice as he continued: "Itell you, Dad, it's a fact that I did almost break the bank atMonte Carlo. I'd have done it sure, if only my money had heldout.""It seems to me that I've heard something of the sort before,"was Gilder's caustic comment. But his smile was still whollysympathetic. He took a curious vicarious delight in theescapades of his son, probably because he himself had committedno follies in his callow days. "Why didn't you cable me?" heasked, puzzled at such restraint on the part of his son.

　　Dick answered with simple sincerity.

　　"Because it gave me a capital excuse for coming home."It was Sarah who afforded a diversion. She had known Dick whilehe was yet a child, had bought him candy, had felt toward him amaternal liking that increased rather than diminished as he grewto manhood. Now, her face lighted at sight of him, and she smileda welcome.

　　"I see you have found him," she said, with a ripple of laughter.

　　Dick welcomed this interruption of the graver mood.

　　"Sadie," he said, with a manner of the utmost seriousness, "youare looking finer than ever. And how thin you have grown!"The girl, eager with fond fancies toward the slender ideal,accepted the compliment literally.

　　"Oh, Mr. Dick!" she exclaimed, rapturously. "How much do youthink I have lost?"The whimsical heir of the house of Gilder surveyed his victimcritically, then spoke with judicial solemnity.

　　"About two ounces, Sadie."There came a look of deep hurt on Sadie's face at the flippantjest, which Dick himself was quick to note.

　　He had not guessed she was thus acutely sensitive concerning herplumpness. Instantly, he was all contrition over his unwittingoffense inflicted on her womanly vanity.

　　"Oh, I'm sorry, Sadie," he exclaimed penitently. "Please don't bereally angry with me. Of course, I didn't mean----""To twit on facts!" the secretary interrupted, bitterly.

　　"Pooh!" Dick cried, craftily. "You aren't plump enough to besensitive about it. Why, you're just right." There wassomething very boyish about his manner, as he caught at thegirl's arm. A memory of the days when she had cuddled him causedhim to speak warmly, forgetting the presence of his father.

　　"Now, don't be angry, Sadie. Just give me a little kiss, as youused to do." He swept her into his arms, and his lips met hersin a hearty caress. "There!" he cried. "Just to show there's noill feeling."The girl was completely mollified, though in much embarrassment.

　　"Why, Mr. Dick!" she stammered, in confusion. "Why, Mr. Dick!"Gilder, who had watched the scene in great astonishment, nowinterposed to end it.

　　"Stop, Dick!" he commanded, crisply. "You are actually makingSarah blush. I think that's about enough, son."But a sudden unaccustomed gust of affection swirled in the breastof the lad. Plain Anglo-Saxon as he was, with all that impliesas to the avoidance of displays of emotion, nevertheless he hadbeen for a long time in lands far from home, where the habits ofimpulsive and affectionate peoples were radically unlike our ownausterer forms. So now, under the spur of an impulse suggestedby the dalliance with the buxom secretary, he grinned widely andwent to his father.

　　"A little kiss never hurts any one," he declared, blithely. Thenhe added vivaciously: "Here, I'll show you!"With the words, he clasped his arms around his father's neck,and, before that amazed gentleman could understand his purpose,he had kissed soundly first the one cheek and then the other,each with a hearty, wholesome smack of filial piety. This done,he stood back, still beaming happily, while the astounded Sarahtittered bewilderedly. For his own part, Dick was quiteunashamed. He loved his father. For once, he had expressed thatfondness in a primitive fashion, and he was glad.

　　The older man withdrew a step, and there rested motionless, underthe sway of an emotion akin to dismay. He stood staring intentlyat his son with a perplexity in his expression that was almostludicrous. When, at last, he spoke, his voice was a rumble ofstrangely shy pleasure.

　　"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, violently. Then he raised ahand, and rubbed first one cheek, and after it its fellow, with agentleness that was significant. The feeling provoked by theembrace showed plainly in his next words. "Why, that's the firsttime you have kissed me, Dick, since you were a little boy. Godbless my soul!" he repeated. And now there was a note ofjubilation.

　　The son, somewhat disturbed by this emotion he had aroused,nevertheless answered frankly with the expression of his ownfeeling, as he advanced and laid a hand on his father's shoulder.

　　"The fact is, Dad," he said quietly, with a smile that was goodto see, "I am awfully glad to see you again.""Are you, son?" the father cried happily. Then, abruptly hismanner changed, for he felt himself perilously close to themaudlin in this new yielding to sentimentality. Such kisses oftenderness, however agreeable in themselves, were hardly fittingto one of his dignity. "You clear out of here, boy," hecommanded, brusquely. "I'm a working man. But here, wait aminute," he added. He brought forth from a pocket a neat sheafof banknotes, which he held out. "There's carfare for you," hesaid with a chuckle. "And now clear out. I'll see you atdinner."Dick bestowed the money in his pocket, and again turned towardthe door.

　　"You can always get rid of me on the same terms," he remarkedslyly. And then the young man gave evidence that he, too, hadsome of his father's ability in things financial. For, in thedoorway he turned with a final speech, which was uttered insplendid disregard for the packet of money he had justreceived--perhaps, rather, in a splendid regard for it. "Oh,Dad, please don't forget to give Sadie that five dollars Iborrowed from her for the taxi'." And with that impertinentreminder he was gone.

　　The owner of the store returned to his labors with a new zest,for the meeting with his son had put him in high spirits.

　　Perhaps it might have been better for Mary Turner had she come tohim just then, while he was yet in this softened mood. But fatehad ordained that other events should restore him to his usualharder self before their interview. The effect was, indeed,presently accomplished by the advent of Smithson into the office.

　　He entered with an expression of discomfiture on his rathervacuous countenance. He walked almost nimbly to the desk andspoke with evident distress, as his employer looked upinterrogatively.

　　"McCracken has detained--er--a--lady, sir," he said, feebly.

　　"She has been searched, and we have found about a hundred dollarsworth of laces on her.""Well?" Gilder demanded, impatiently. Such affairs were toocommon in the store to make necessary this intrusion of thematter on him. "Why did you come to me about it?" His staffknew just what to do with shoplifters.

　　At once, Smithson became apologetic, while refusing to retreat.

　　"I'm very sorry, sir," he said haltingly, "but I thought itwiser, sir, to--er--to bring the matter to your personalattention.""Quite unnecessary, Smithson," Gilder returned, with asperity.

　　"You know my views on the subject of property. Tell McCracken tohave the thief arrested."Smithson cleared his throat doubtfully, and in his stress offeeling he even relaxed a trifle that majestical erectness ofcarriage that had made him so valuable as a floor-walker.

　　"She's not exactly a--er--a thief," he ventured.

　　"You are trifling, Smithson," the owner of the store exclaimed,in high exasperation. "Not a thief! And you caught her with ahundred dollars worth of laces that she hadn't bought. Not athief! What in heaven's name do you call her, then?""A kleptomaniac," Smithson explained, retaining his manner ofmild insistence. "You see, sir, it's this way. The lady happensto be the wife of J. W. Gaskell, the banker, you know."Yes, Gilder did know. The mention of the name was like a spellin the effect it wrought on the attitude of the irritated ownerof the store. Instantly, his expression changed. While beforehis features had been set grimly, while his eyes had flashedwrathfully, there was now only annoyance over an event markedlyunfortunate.

　　"How extremely awkward!" he cried; and there was a very realconcern in his voice. He regarded Smithson kindly, whereat thatrather puling gentleman once again assumed his martial bearing.

　　"You were quite right in coming to me." For a moment he wassilent, plunged in thought. Finally he spoke with thedecisiveness characteristic of him. "Of course, there's nothingwe can do. Just put the stuff back on the counter, and let hergo."But Smithson had not yet wholly unburdened himself. Instead ofimmediately leaving the room in pursuance of the succinctinstructions given him, he again cleared his throat nervously,and made known a further aggravating factor in the situation.

　　"She's very angry, Mr. Gilder," he announced, timidly.

　　"She--er--she demands an--er--an apology."The owner of the store half-rose from his chair, then threwhimself back with an exclamation of disgust. He again ejaculatedthe words with which he had greeted his son's unexpected kisses,but now there was a vast difference in the intonation.

　　"God bless my soul!" he cried. From his expression, it was clearthat a pious aspiration was farthest from his thought. On thecontrary! Again, he fell silent, considering the situation whichSmithson had presented, and, as he reflected, his frown betrayedthe emotion natural enough under the circumstances. At last,however, he mastered his irritation to some degree, and spoke hiscommand briefly. "Well, Smithson, apologize to her. It can't behelped." Then his face lighted with a sardonic amusement. "And,Smithson," he went on with a sort of elephantine playfulness, "Ishall take it as a personal favor if you will tactfully advisethe lady that the goods at Altman and Stern's are really evenfiner than ours."When Smithson had left the office, Gilder turned to hissecretary.

　　"Take this," he directed, and he forthwith dictated the followingletter to the husband of the lady who was not a thief, asSmithson had so painstakingly pointed out:

　　"J. W. GASKELL, ESQ., "Central National Bank, New York.

　　"MY DEAR Mr. GASKELL: I feel that I should be doing less than myduty as a man if I did not let you know at once that Mrs. Gaskellis in urgent need of medical attention. She came into our storeto-day, and----"He paused for a moment. "No, put it this way," he said finally:

　　"We found her wandering about our store to-day in a very nervouscondition. In her excitement, she carried away about one hundreddollars' worth of rare laces. Not recognizing her, our storedetective detained her for a short time. Fortunately for us all,Mrs. Gaskell was able to explain who she was, and she has justgone to her home. Hoping for Mrs. Gaskell's speedy recovery, andwith all good wishes, I am, "Yours verytruly."Yet, though he had completed the letter, Gilder did not at oncetake up another detail of his business. Instead, he remainedplunged in thought, and now his frown was one of simplebewilderment. A number of minutes passed before he spoke, andthen his words revealed distinctly what had been his train ofmeditation.

　　"Sadie," he said in a voice of entire sincerity, "I can'tunderstand theft. It's a thing absolutely beyond mycomprehension."On the heels of this ingenuous declaration, Smithson entered theoffice, and that excellent gentleman appeared even more perturbedthan before.

　　"What on earth is the matter now?" Gilder spluttered,suspiciously.

　　"It's Mrs. Gaskell still," Smithson replied in great trepidation.

　　"She wants you personally, Mr. Gilder, to apologize to her. Shesays that the action taken against her is an outrage, and she isnot satisfied with the apologies of all the rest of us. She saysyou must make one, too, and that the store detective must bedischarged for intolerable insolence."Gilder bounced up from his chair angrily.

　　"I'll be damned if I'll discharge McCracken," he vociferated,glaring on Smithson, who shrank visibly.

　　But that mild and meek man had a certain strength of pertinacity.

　　Besides, in this case, he had been having multitudinous troublesof his own, which could be ended only by his employer's placatingof the offended kleptomaniac.

　　"But about the apology, Mr. Gilder," he reminded, speaking verydeferentially, yet with insistence.

　　Business instinct triumphed over the magnate's irritation, andhis face cleared.

　　"Oh, I'll apologize," he said with a wry smile of discomfiture.

　　"I'll make things even up a bit when I get an apology fromGaskell. I shrewdly suspect that that estimable gentleman isgoing to eat humble pie, of my baking, from his wife's recipe.

　　And his will be an honest apology--which mine won't, not by adamned sight!" With the words, he left the room, in his wake ahugely relieved Smithson.

　　Alone in the office, Sarah neglected her work for a few minutesto brood over the startling contrast of events that had justforced itself on her attention. She was not a girl given to theanalysis of either persons or things, but in this instance themovement of affairs had come close to her, and she was compelledto some depth of feeling by the two aspects of life on whichto-day she looked. In the one case, as she knew it, a girl underthe urge of poverty had stolen. That thief had been promptlyarrested, finally she had been tried, had been convicted, hadbeen sentenced to three years in prison. In the other case, awoman of wealth had stolen. There had been no punishment. Aeuphemism of kleptomania had been offered and accepted assufficient excuse for her crime. A polite lie had been writtento her husband, a banker of power in the city. To her, theproprietor of the store was even now apologizing in courteousphrases of regret.... And Mary Turner had been sentenced to threeyears in prison. Sadie shook her head in dolorous doubt, as sheagain bent over the keys of her typewriter. Certainly, somehappenings in this world of ours did not seem quite fair.