It was so much to have found. All he had dreamed, people of his own, a
straight leg--and--his heart's desire--service to America.

Mrs. Cabell spoke softly, "I've lived a long time and I've seen over and
over that a good deed spreads happiness like a pebble thrown into water,
more than a bad one spreads evil, for good is stronger and more
contagious. We've gained this dear kinsman today because of the nobility
of an old negro woman."

David Lance lifted his head quickly. "It was no small nobility," he
said. "As Miss Cabell was saying--"

"I'm your cousin Eleanor," interrupted Miss Cabell.

David lingered over the name. "Thank you, my cousin Eleanor. It's as you
said, nothing more beautiful and wonderful has been done in wonderful
America than this thing Aunt Basha did. It was as gallant as a soldier
at the front, for she offered what meant possibly her life."

"Her little two hundred," Eleanor spoke gently. "And so cross at the
idea of being paid back! She wanted to _give_ it."

David's face gleamed with a thought as he stared into the firelight,
"You see," he worked out his idea, "by the standards of the angels a
gift must be big not according to its size but according to what's left.
If you have millions and give a few thousand you practically give
nothing, for you have millions left. But Aunt Basha had nothing left.
The angels must have beaten drums and blown trumpets and raised Cain all
over Paradise while you sat in the bank, my cousin Eleanor, for the
glory of that record gift. No plutocrat in the land has touched what