born. He is the first Monroe to disgrace the old stock that way.
I'm sure his brothers and sisters must be dreadfully ashamed of
him. He has lived sixty years and he hasn't done a thing worth
while. He can't even make his farm pay. If he's kept out of
debt it's as much as he's ever managed to do."

"Some men can't even do that," murmured the little school
teacher. She was really so much in awe of this imperious, clever
old Aunt Isabel that it was positive heroism on her part to
venture even this faint protest.

"More is expected of a Monroe," said Aunt Isabel majestically.
"Robert Monroe is a failure, and that is the only name for him."

Robert Monroe stood up below the window in a dizzy, uncertain
fashion. Aunt Isabel had been speaking of him! He, Robert, was
a failure, a disgrace to his blood, of whom his nearest and
dearest were ashamed! Yes, it was true; he had never realized it
before; he had known that he could never win power or accumulate
riches, but he had not thought that mattered much. Now, through
Aunt Isabel's scornful eyes, he saw himself as the world saw
him--as his brothers and sisters must see him. THERE lay the
sting. What the world thought of him did not matter; but that
his own should think him a failure and disgrace was agony. He
moaned as he started to walk across the yard, only anxious to
hide his pain and shame away from all human sight, and in his
eyes was the look of a gentle animal which had been stricken by a
cruel and unexpected blow.

Edith Monroe, who, unaware of Robert's proximity, had been