satisfaction you discussed with me some time ago has all blown over."

Billy was completely disarmed by Jacoby's friendly attitude and his air of confidence. "Hardly," he blurted out. "You know how grasping Darrow is. Get's everything he can out of everyone-and gives as little as he can for it. This is a big job, of course, and there isn't another man in the office he would entrust with it yet the salary he is paying me is a joke."

JA

ACOBY narrowed his eyes. "I'll give you a hundred a week to come with us," he offered, in order to find out what Billy did make. But Billy, suddenly grown cautious, shook his head. If he was to receive offers on the strength of this work they must come strong, he thought. And so he laughingly named a figure which Jacoby knew to be fictitious because of its very size and what he knew about Billy.

"Guess I can't buy you," he said with mock regret, "but since you've said that the condition Darrow made was that the construction work should be done by a firm other than his own, why not let me have the job? I'll keep prices down-down to the bone-and, naturally, I would expect to share-some of the profit."

Billy held up a protesting hand, but it shook waveringly. "Profits-commissions-a hundred thousandprices down to the bone!" The words danced through his brain.

"I couldn't think of that," he managed to say. "You're a goose," Jacoby taunted. "It's done in every firm." And then, in low tones, as he leaned across the table familiarly, he talked to Billy Hobson for fully half an hour. And, in that half hour, the stronger brain had won. Hobson had agreed to give the contract for the building of Darrow's house-and Hobson was to receive ten per cent of Jacoby's net profit..

That night, at dinner, when Mary asked Billy about the work, he was strangely reticent. At first she was disturbed, but later set his concentration down to a deep interest in the commission, a natural anxiety for its success, and a firmer, more thoughtful grip upon himself.

Later, when she had retired, Billy sat under the library lamp, a mass of papers, plans, and specifications strewn over the table, and Darrow's closely written instruction-sheets under his hand. A curious smile lit up his eyes, yet there was a frown on his face. And for a long time before he went to bed himself, he paced the room nervously, smoking his pipe and muttering to himself.

DUR

URING the following week, he spent several nights in town with Jacoby-to complete the details of construction, he told Mary; and his wife rejoiced over the new interest Billy was taking in his work. She breathed a prayer of thankfulness to Darrow. He had given Billy the opportunity he longed for-and Billy was putting his best into it.

But Mary didn't dream for an instant that he was putting his worst into it-deliberately-under the tutelage of Jacoby and what he considered Jonas Darrow's unfair treatment. If Mary had only acted on her natural curiosity to ask what his plans were-to

plead that he tell her all the construction details-to offer what help she might give, the answer might have been different. But Mary wanted Billy to work them all out for himself-and there's where the trouble came. It wasn't her fault. It was simply one of those innocent sins of omission which result as a desire to be fair and considerate of others rather than to take them by the scruff of the neck and shake them violently into their

senses.

Weeks went by. Mary gleaned the information that the foundations of the house were laid, that materials were arriving by wagons and motor-trucks, that a small army of laborers were at work and that the structure was to be reared in record time. For this purpose, the men were offered a bonus. Whenever Mary ventured a wish to see the progress of the building, Billy laughingly put her off. "Wait until it's really up," he said. "Then I'll surprise you."

But one morning, as Billy and Jacoby were going through the half-completed mansion, Jacoby drew him aside. "We'll have to increase the bonus to get the work done on time," he whispered. "It wouldn't do for Darrow to get back while things are in this unfinished state. We could work it with a newly rich, inexperienced, home builder, but we can't on Jason Darrow. I've substituted cleverly, and once the foundations are covered, the plumbing concealed, and the paint put on, he can't tell what we've done. That is," he added with a chuckle, "until the thing begins to wear out. And that won't be very long. High prices have made me skimp more than I thought I would have to, and the quality and stability of the place is about twentyfive per cent lower than I thought it would be. That is about half what Darrow intended it to be and would have made it himself."

"We've gone too far!" Billy said bitterly. "He's sure to find it out."

[ACOBY laughed. "Not if we get it done in time, he

Jwon't," he assured the terrified Billy. "It's a per

fect shell of a house-a pretty stage setting. I haven't worked blindly. Everything is covered up and the specifications read all right. My own men have, attended to every substitution and Darrow won't be any the wiser-only the house won't last. Built as it could have been built, it would have stood forevermore or less. As it has been built-well, it won't.

"Don't you think Darrow will suspect something?" Billy asked nervously.

"Not a chance!" snapped Jacoby. "Don't get nervous. If anything does go wrong- if he suspects-pass the buck to me. It will simply mean that I've taken advantage of your inexperience."

Billy didn't like that phrase. He didn't like the implication that he lacked experience, and he didn't relish the thought that he might have to shift the blame. He had been given this job by a man who trusted him-who believed in his ability-and who wanted to see him do a creditable piece of work.

That night, a month later, Billy was strangely restless. Already his conscience was demanding payment for the tidy sum that rested in the bank to his financial but not his moral credit. He had not dared even hint of its existence to Mary, and now that a wire from

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San Francisco warned him of Darrow's speedy arrival, he felt like a hunted criminal.

Would Darrow know-would he suspect? It was the same hideous question. He knew he had failed in little things before-just as he had failed in a big thing now. He knew that he had not been honest with any one-with his conscience with his future--with his wifewith Darrow. And, as usual it was too late when he reluctantly but decisively put his finger on his folly. Mary was keen to see the house before Darrow saw it. She knew the momentous things which hung upon his approval. But her loyalty was too great to permit her to slip off and view it without Billy's consent. So she awaited Jason Darrow's return with as much anticipation as Billy awaited it with dread.

On the morning that Billy met Darrow in the latter's private office, he was shaking like a leaf.

"Well, Billy," Darrow began, his tanned face breaking into a friendly smile, "how's the house going?"

"It's finished, sir," Billy announced, throwing out his chest just as boastfully as if he had really performed an honest job. Billy believed in himself, right or wrong. He had always cherished the mistaken thought that bluff can get away with error.

"Finished!" Darrow exclaimed. "How did you manage to get it completed in so short a time--what with tardy deliveries, broken mill-promises, labor delays, and what not? I should have put you at the head of our traffic department long ago if you can do that sort of work."

DA

ARROW'S face beamed with genuine pleasure, and Billy felt his heart sink. He was being praised when he should have been blamed. Nothing hurts like praise when it should have been censure -just as nothing hurts like censure when it should be praise.

"Let's run out and see the place at once," Darrow suggested, as he pushed the electric button on his desk. A stenographer appeared and he told her to summon his car at once. "I'm crazy as a kid with a new toy!" Darrow told Billy, accompanying his remark with a healthy slap on Hobson's back. "This vacation has given me a new lease on life. I've enjoyed every minute of it, and now I know that my lieutenants have been good and faithful servants-that my own interests have been looked after in my absence."

Something went through Billy's brain like a red-hot iron; something seemed to tear the heart out of him. As the motor-car glided along the avenue, toward the drive to the country place, it passed the bank where Billy's ill-gained profits were reposing. He wanted to leap out and cancel his account.

The remainder of that ride was a nightmare. But the end of it was a startling awakening. As they went up the roadway, still turf, and not yet macadamized, since Darrow had reserved these finishings to himself, Old Jason pointed out various matters which he wanted expert landscape gardeners execute. "Billy," he said, "if they'd all work as quickly and as efficiently as you have, I'd be a fortunate man."

Never before had Billy Hobson realized that conscience, when hurt to the quick, is the most painful wound known.

They had arrived at the new villa. Billy stepped out of the car first and deferentially put out his hand to assist Jason Darrow. His employer waved aside the courtesy, and leaped out with surprising alacrity.

"I'm glad, Billy," said Darrow, "I'm glad that you didn't do what I thought you would do that is, ask your wife to come along and see how I liked it. For the same reason I didn't care to have Mrs. Darrow come with us on this inspection trip. There will be a lot of things she won't like when they're done, and I don't want her to have them altered meanwhile. I'm also glad that you didn't bring the contractor. I don't care who he is and I'm not interested. I want to see the house."

THEY walked up the concrete steps, Billy quite

conscious of the fact that Darrow had been all the while considering its outward appearance. Billy tried to soothe himself with the thought that it was a substitute building.

On the wide veranda, Darrow paused. He scraped his square-toed boot across the red tiles of the porch floor. "You should not have bought that sort of brick, Billy," he said. "It is good; but I would have liked better. However, it can be relaid later. I am more eager to see the inside. Mrs. Darrow and I want to move in as soon as possible."

Then they went inside. They went from cellar to roof, Darrow's practical eye peering into every nook and cranny, neglecting no detail. He saw that his memorandum of instructions had been carried out apparently to the very last letter. He saw that little touches of ingenuity had been added to carry out the ideal vision of the luxurious home that had been outlined by him. But he saw, too, that the house was a thing of veneer

WHEN they were again on the veranda, and

Darrow was looking over the grounds, which were still to be improved, he turned and grasped the limp, clammy, frightened hand of the half-relieved Billy. "My boy," he said, "I want to congratulate you! You have built a beautiful house. You remember the old Bible story: how one man built his house upon the sands-how the wind and the storm came and blew it down. The wiser man built his house upon the rocks, and when the winds and the storms came the house stood? I feel that you have built for me just such a house as the wise man would have built for himself. And now, Billy Hobson, I want to take off my mask of hypocrisy and reveal myself in my true colors. I love your wife as I'd love my own daughter. I want her to be happy, comfortable, rich, for I was her father's best friend as he was mine. You didn't quite size up to my ideas of ability until now. But I wanted you to be real. You have proved to me that you are honest-that you have brains. You have built a house which I think your wife and my wife will care for and cherish-one they'll be happy and proud to live in. And now I'll tell you the whole truth!"

Darrow stopped short-laughed and slapped Billy full on the back.

"I told you to build this house-gave you carte

blanche to do it-and gave you a hundred thousand to do so for just two reasons."

Billy looked at him with a blanched face. He waited silently, pitifully, during the remainder of Darrow's speech. It sounded to his nervous, guilty, burning ears, like the charge of the judge to a jury.

"My reasons were these," Darrow went on. "I wanted to test you. You didn't measure up in working for me, and you didn't prove up as Mary's husband. I wanted to know that you were good enough to be her husband-good enough for me to keep as a valuable assistant. I wanted to be sure that you weren't weak; but that you have enough brains to be corrected, to be set on the right path. These things may seem like a great many reasons; but they narrow down to two: your fitness for Mary and your fitness for me."

Billy still stared at him-his faith in himself seemed like a hopeless, dying thing.

But Darrow was talking again. Billy could not believe his ears. "You built this house-thinking it was for me. You built it for me as you have worked for me. I am giving you your reward. What you have put into this house is the same sort of value you have put into every job I gave you. When I told you to spend a hundred thousand on a house for me--I intended that the completed house should be yours-yours and Mary's to live in." He paused abruptly, then continued. "I am aware of the commissions you received from Jacoby. They may compensate you for the deception--but I'm certain they won't. I told you to build the house of the finest materials-to spare no expense. In deceiving me you have deceived yourselfcheated your wife. If she's willing to take your handi

work-it is still yours. I wouldn't have it at any price -except the price at which I have bought it, the price of a man's worth. If Mary is willing to take you and live in this house, well and good. If she isn't, I'll take the hundred thousand her dead father left in my care, and give it to her in cash-provided she comes to live with Mrs. Darrow and me."

Darrow paused again to glare at Billy. “If, on the other hand, this is an example to you-if it points the way to what you owe your wife—and what you owe me --you'll live in this house until it wears out-and your salary is well it's what it is now until you've made good!"

Darrow turned and hurried down the steps. He entered the motor car and was gone.

Billy, dazed, conscious stricken, trembled on the cheap tiles of the veranda. He stooped and buried his face in his hands, leaning against the cheaper veranda rail.

Then Mary issued from some mysterious recess of the place. She went up behind her husband and put both arms about him. "Dear," she said softly, with a little laugh in her voice, “you've made a Hobson's choice, and in such a choice the best of it is always the worst." "You mean you'll stick?” he asked incredulously. "Certainly," laughed Mary. “Jacoby, who was put up to his trickery deliberately, has been paid back what he gave you in commissions. I did it out of dad's estate. And it's up to you to pay back to me what you have in the bank, as a result of your foolishness."

There was a bit of a tear in her big cyes as she let him kiss her. In his heart was the sorrow of genuine repentance.

TO MYSELF:

THE

Every day, Every month, Every year.

This is my task to-day.

TOM S. JOHNSON.