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'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. "To be plain, then," said Winifred, "he has asked me whether I have any objection to you as a mother. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. "Well, how goes it?" he asked. He leaned forward to embrace her. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. "I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab," he said. He had heard everything.
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