Next day brought the Admiral a cheque for L5,000 fromMr. McAdam, and a stamped agreement by which he made overhis pension papers to the speculative investor. Itwas not until he had signed and sent it off that the fullsignificance of all that he had done broke upon him. Hehad sacrificed everything. His pension was gone. He hadnothing save only what he could earn. But the stout oldheart never quailed. He waited eagerly for a letter fromthe Saint Lawrence Shipping Company, and in the meanwhilehe gave his landlord a quarter's notice. Hundred pounda year houses would in future be a luxury which he couldnot aspire to. A small lodging in some inexpensive partof London must be the substitute for his breezy Norwoodvilla. So be it, then! Better that a thousand fold thanthat his name should be associated with failure anddisgrace.

On that morning Harold Denver was to meet thecreditors of the firm, and to explain the situation tothem. It was a hateful task, a degrading task, but heset himself to do it with quiet resolution. At home theywaited in intense anxiety to learn the result of themeeting. It was late before he returned,haggard pale, like a man who has done and suffered much.

"What's this board in front of the house? he asked.

"We are going to try a little change of scene," saidthe Admiral. "This place is neither town norcountry. But never mind that, boy. Tell us whathappened in the City."

"God help me! My wretched business driving you outof house and home!" cried Harold, broken down by thisfresh evidence of the effects of his misfortunes. "It iseasier for me to meet my creditors than to see you twosuffering so patiently for my sake."

"Tut, tut!" cried the Admiral. "There's no sufferingin the matter. Mother would rather be near the theaters. That's at the bottom of it, isn't it, mother? You comeand sit down here between us and tell us all about it."

Harold sat down with a loving hand in each of his.

"It's not so bad as we thought," said he, "and yet itis bad enough. I have about ten days to find the money,but I don't know which way to turn for it. Pearson,however, lied, as usual, when he spoke of L13,000. Theamount is not quite L7,000."

The Admiral claped his hands. "I knew we shouldweather it after all! Hurrah my boy! Hip, hip, hip,hurrah!"

Harold gazed at him in surprise, while the old seamanwaved his arm above his head and bellowed out threestentorian cheers. "Where am I to get seven thousandpounds from, dad?" he asked.

"Never mind. You spin your yarn."

"Well, they were very good and very kind, but ofcourse they must have either their money or their money'sworth. They passed a vote of sympathy with me, andagreed to wait ten days before they took any proceedings. Three of them, whose claim came to L3,500, told me thatif I would give them my personal I.O.U., and pay interestat the rate of five per cent, their amounts might standover as long as I wished. That would be a charge of L175upon my income, but with economy I could meet it, and itdiminishes the debt by one-half."

Again the Admiral burst out cheering.

"There remains, therefore, about L3,200 which has tobe found within ten days. No man shall lose by me. Igave them my word in the room that if I worked my soulout of my body every one of them should be paid. I shallnot spend a penny upon myself until it is done. But someof them can't wait. They are poor men themselves, andmust have their money. They have issued a warrant forPearson's arrest. But they think that he has got awaythe States."

"These men shall have their money," said theAdmiral.

"Dad!"

"Yes, my boy, you don't know the resources of thefamily. One never does know until one tries. What haveyou yourself now?"

"I have about a thousand pounds invested."

"All right. And I have about as much more. There'sa good start. Now, mother, it is your turn. What isthat little bit of paper of yours?"

Mrs. Denver unfolded it, and placed it upon Harold'sknee.

"Five thousand pounds!" he gasped.

"Ah, but mother is not the only rich one. Look atthis!" And the Admiral unfolded his cheque, and placedit upon the other knee.

Harold gazed from one to the other in bewilderment. "Ten thousand pounds!" he cried. "Good heavens! wheredid these come from?"

"You will not worry any longer, dear," murmured hismother, slipping her arm round him.

But his quick eye had caught the signature upon oneof the cheques. "Doctor Walker!" he cried, flushing. "This is Clara's doing. Oh, dad, we cannot take thismoney. It would not be right nor honorable."

"No, boy, I am glad you think so. It is something,however, to have proved one's friend, for a real goodfriend he is. It was he who brought it in, thoughClara sent him. But this other money will be enough tocover everything, and it is all my own."

"Your own? Where did you get it, dad?"

"Tut, tut! See what it is to have a City man to dealwith. It is my own, and fairly earned, and that isenough."

"Dear old dad!" Harold squeezed his gnarled hand. "And you, mother! You have lifted the trouble from myheart. I feel another man. You have saved my honor, mygood name, everything. I cannot owe you more, for I oweyou everything already."

So while the autumn sunset shone ruddily through thebroad window these three sat together hand in hand, withhearts which were too full to speak. Suddenly the softthudding of tennis balls was heard, and Mrs. Westmacottbounded into view upon the lawn with brandished racketand short skirts fluttering in the breeze. The sightcame as a relief to their strained nerves, and they burstall three into a hearty fit of laughter.

"She is playing with her nephew," said Harold atlast. "The Walkers have not come out yet. I think thatit would be well if you were to give me that cheque,mother, and I were to return it in person."

"Certainly, Harold. I think it would be very nice.

He went in through the garden. Clara and the Doctorwere sitting together in the dining-room. She sprang toher feet at the sight of him.

"Oh, Harold, I have been waiting for you soimpatiently," she cried; "I saw you pass the frontwindows half an hour ago. I would have come in if Idared. Do tell us what has happened."

"I have come in to thank you both. How can I repayyou for your kindness? Here is your cheque, Doctor. Ihave not needed it. I find that I can lay my hands onenough to pay my creditors."

"Thank God!" said Clara fervently.

"The sum is less than I thought, and our resourcesconsiderably more. We have been able to do it withease."

"With ease!" The Doctor's brow clouded and hismanner grew cold. "I think, Harold, that you would dobetter to take this money of mine, than to use that whichseems to you to be gained with ease."

"Thank you, sir. If I borrowed from any one it wouldbe from you. But my father has this very sum, fivethousand pounds, and, as I tell him, I owe him so muchthat I have no compunction about owing him more."

"No compunction! Surely there are some sacrificeswhich a son should not allow his parents to make."

"Sacrifices! What do you mean?"

"Is it possible that you do not know how this moneyhas been obtained?"

"I give you my word, Doctor Walker, that I have noidea. I asked my father, but he refused to tell me."

"I thought not," said the Doctor, the gloom clearingfrom his brow. "I was sure that you were not a man who,to clear yourself from a little money difficulty, wouldsacrifice the happiness of your mother and the health ofyour father."

"Good gracious! what do you mean?"

"It is only right that you should know. That moneyrepresents the commutation of your father's pension. Hehas reduced himself to poverty, and intends to go to seaagain to earn a living."

"To sea again! Impossible!"

"It is the truth. Charles Westmacott has told Ida. He was with him in the City when he took his poor pensionabout from dealer to dealer trying to sell it. Hesucceeded at last, and hence the money."

"He has sold his pension!" cried Harold, with hishands to his face. "My dear old dad has sold hispension!" He rushed from the room, and burst wildly intothe presence of his parents once more. "I cannot takeit, father," he cried. "Better bankruptcy than that. Oh, if I had only known your plan! We must haveback the pension. Oh, mother, mother, how could youthink me capable of such selfishness? Give me thecheque, dad, and I will see this man to-night, for Iwould sooner die like a dog in the ditch than touch apenny of this money."