. . .Some men," she said, quietly, "have been known to go to work and make money for themselves when they needed it."

Conniston told her of his little friend William, of Indian Creek, adding, carelessly, "I'm glad I don't have to feel like that."

"You mean that you had rather have money given to you than to feel that you had earned it yourself?"

"Quite naturally, Miss Crawford. My father is William Conniston, Senior. Maybe you have heard of him?"

He was proud to be his father's son, to have his own name so intimately connected with that of a man who was not only a millionaire many times over, but who was a power in Wall Street and known as such to the four ends of the earth.

"Yes. I have heard of him. He made his own money, didn't he? In the West, too."

"Yes. A mining expert in the beginning, I believe, and a mine-owner in the end. Oh, the governor knows how to make the dollars grow, all right!"

Again she made n. . . Read More