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Programming Arduino™
Getting Started with Sketches

SECOND EDITION

Simon Monk

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2016938700

McGraw-Hill Education books are available at special quantity discounts to use as

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representative, please visit the Contact Us page at www.mheducation.com .

Programming Arduino™: Getting Started with Sketches, Second Edition

Copyright © 2016, 2012 by McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved. Printed in the United
States of America. Except as permitted under the United States Copyright Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or
stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the
publisher, with the exception that the program listings may be entered, stored, and executed
in a computer system, but they may not be reproduced for publication.
McGraw-Hill Education, the McGraw-Hill Education logo, TAB, and related trade dress are
trademarks or registered trademarks of McGraw-Hill Education and/or its affiliates in the
United States and other countries and may not be used without written permission. All other
trademarks are the property of their respective owners. McGraw-Hill Education is not
associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book.
Arduino is a trademark of Arduino LLC.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 DOC 21 20 19 18 17 16

ISBN 978-1-25-964163-3
MHID 1-25-964163-5

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Sponsoring Editor
Michael McCabe
Editorial Supervisor
Stephen M. Smith
Production Supervisor
Pamela A. Pelton
Acquisitions Coordinator
Lauren Rogers
Project Manager
 Srishti Malasi,
Cenveo® Publisher Services
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Information has been obtained by McGraw-Hill Education from sources believed to be

reliable. However, because of the possibility of human or mechanical error by our sources,
McGraw-Hill Education, or others, McGraw-Hill Education does not guarantee the accuracy,
adequacy, or completeness of any information and is not responsible for any errors or
omissions or the results obtained from the use of such information.
To my boys, Stephen and Matthew, from a very proud Dad.
About the Author
Simon Monk has a bachelor’s degree in cybernetics and computer
science and a doctorate in software engineering. He has been an
active electronics hobbyist since his school days and is an
occasional author in hobby electronics magazines. Dr. Monk is also
author of some 20 books on Maker and electronics topics, especially
Arduino and Raspberry Pi. You can find out more about his books at
http://simonmonk.org . You can also follow him on Twitter, where he
is @simonmonk2.
 CONTENTS
Preface
Acknowledgments
Introduction

1 This Is Arduino
Microcontrollers
Development Boards
A Tour of an Arduino Board
Power Supply
Power Connections
Analog Inputs
Digital Connections
Microcontroller
Other Components
The Origins of Arduino
The Arduino Family
Uno and Leonardo
Mega and Due
The Micro and Small Arduino Boards
Yun
Lilypad
Other “Official” Boards
Arduino Clones and Variants
Conclusion
2 Getting Started
Powering Up
Installing the Software
Uploading Your First Sketch
The Arduino Application
Conclusion

3 C Language Basics
Programming
What Is a Programming Language?
Blink—Again!
Variables
Experiments in C
Numeric Variables and Arithmetic
Commands
if
for
while
Constants
Conclusion

4 Functions
What Is a Function?
Parameters
Global, Local, and Static Variables
Return Values
Other Variable Types
floats
 boolean
Other Data Types
Coding Style
Indentation
Opening Braces
Whitespace
Comments
Conclusion

5 Arrays and Strings

Arrays
Morse Code SOS Using Arrays
String Arrays
String Literals
String Variables
A Morse Code Translator
Data
Globals and Setup
The loop Function
The flashSequence Function
The flashDotOrDash Function
Putting It All Together
Conclusion

6 Input and Output

Digital Outputs
Digital Inputs
Pull-Up Resistors
 Internal Pull-Up Resistors
Debouncing
Analog Outputs
Analog Input
Conclusion

7 The Standard Arduino Library

Random Numbers
Math Functions
Bit Manipulation
Advanced I/O
Generating Tones
Feeding Shift Registers
Interrupts
Conclusion

8 Data Storage
Constants
Storing Data in Flash Memory
EEPROM
Storing an int in EEPROM
Using the AVR EEPROM Library
Storing a float in EEPROM
Storing a String in EEPROM
Clearing the Contents of EEPROM
Compression
Range Compression
Conclusion
9 Displays
Alphanumeric LCD Displays
A USB Message Board
Using the Display
Other LCD Library Functions
OLED Graphic Displays
Connecting an OLED Display
Software
Conclusion

10 Arduino Internet of Things Programming

Communicating with Web Servers
HTTP
HTML
Arduino Uno as a Web Server
Web-Controlled Arduino
Node MCU Web Server
Web-Controlled Node MCU
Calling Web Services
Arduino Uno and IFTTT
Node MCU ESP8266 Board and IFTTT
Other IoT Options
Arduino Yun
Particle Photon
Conclusion

11 C++ and Libraries

Object Orientation
 Classes and Methods
Built-In Library Example
Writing Libraries
The Header File
The Implementation File
Completing Your Library
Conclusion

Index
 PREFACE

The first edition of this book was published in November 2011 and
has been Amazon’s highest ranking book on Arduino.
At the time the book was originally written, the current Arduino
model was the Arduino 2009 and the software version was Beta018.
Almost at the time the book arrived in stores, the Arduino Uno and
version 1.0 of the Arduino software were released. Soon after, the
second printing of the book had a minor update to cover the new
board and software without formally being a second edition. This
edition brings the book fully up to date and is based on Arduino 1.6.
The Arduino Uno R3 is still considered to be the standard
Arduino board. However, many other boards, including both official
Arduino boards (like the Leonardo, Zero, 101, Due, and Yun) and
other Arduino programming language–based devices like the Photon
and Intel Edison, have also appeared.
This edition also addresses the use of Arduino in IoT (Internet of
Things) projects and the use of various types of display including
OLED and LCD.
Simon Monk
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I thank Linda for giving me the time, space, and support to write
this book and for putting up with the various messes my projects
create around the house.
Many thanks to Robert “BobKat” Logan and the many other
eagle-eyed and helpful folk who reported errata for the first edition. I
have done my best to fix what you found.
Finally, I would like to thank Michael McCabe, Srishti Malasi, and
everyone involved in the production of this book. It’s a pleasure to
work with such a great team.
 INTRODUCTION

Arduino interface boards provide a low-cost, easy-to-use

technology to create microcontroller-based projects. With a little
electronics, you can make your Arduino do all sorts of things, from
controlling lights in an art installation to managing the power on a
solar energy system.
There are many project-based books that show you how to
connect things to your Arduino, including 30 Arduino Projects for the
Evil Genius by this author. However, the focus of this book is on
programming the Arduino.
This book will explain how to make programming the Arduino
simple and enjoyable, avoiding the difficulties of uncooperative code
that so often afflict a project. You will be taken through the process of
programming the Arduino step by step, starting with the basics of the
C programming language that Arduinos use.

So, What Is Arduino?

Arduino is a small microcontroller board with a universal serial bus
(USB) plug to connect to your computer and a number of connection
sockets that can be wired to external electronics such as motors,
relays, light sensors, laser diodes, loudspeakers, microphones, and
more. They can be powered either through the USB connection from
the computer, from a 9V battery, or from a power supply. They can
be controlled from the computer or programmed by the computer
and then disconnected and allowed to work independently.
 The board design is open source. This means that anyone is
allowed to make Arduino-compatible boards. This competition has
led to low costs for the boards and all sorts of variations on the
“standard” boards.
The basic boards are supplemented by accessory shield boards
that can be plugged on top of the Arduino board.
The software for programming your Arduino is easy to use and
also freely available for Windows, Mac, and Linux computers.

What Will I Need?

This is a book intended for beginners, but it is also intended to be
useful to those who have used Arduino for a while and want to learn
more about programming the Arduino or gain a better understanding
of the fundamentals. As such, this book concentrates on the use of
the Arduino Uno board; however, almost all of the code will work
unmodified on all the Arduino models and variants.
You do not need to have any programming experience or a
technical background, and the book’s exercises do not require any
soldering. All you need is the desire to make something.
If you want to make the most of the book and try out some of the
experiments, then it is useful to have the following on hand:
♦ A few lengths of solid core wire
♦ A cheap digital multimeter
Both are readily available for a few dollars from a hobby electronics
store or online retailer such as Adafruit or Sparkfun. You will of
course also need an Arduino Uno board.
If you want to go a step further and experiment with displays and
network connections, then you will need to buy shields that are
available from online stores. See Chapters 9 and 10 for details.
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
ourselves that we have learned to enjoy ourselves a little and let the men do
the hustling."

Edith relaxed her thoughts and smiled slightly. "I see you are determined to
be amused at me," she said pleasantly. "There may come a day when
women will find a still greater way to enjoy life. I am not so sure that we
are happier for your boasted advancement."

"Not happier, but less unhappy," Mrs. Lambert returned with the slightest
shade in her laughing eyes.

"Ah; that is it!" the girl responded eagerly. "But won't you drop these
wasteful days? Why don't you choose the happiest, the best?"

She had forgotten herself in her enthusiasm, and had leaned forward,
placing her hand on the other's arm detainingly.

Mrs. Lambert's petulant frown gathered quickly.

"You speak as though persuading me from some fearful sin," she returned
coldly.

Edith drew her hand away and a crimson flush surmounted her face.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Lambert, I speak too freely. You are offended. But I
thought that you wouldn't mind."

For a moment Mrs. Lambert looked intently down at the girl's downcast
face. The frown slowly vanished. Then the old sunny smile came back, and
her hand impulsively sought that of Edith's.

"No, I'm not offended. You are just too new for me, that is all. New things
always irritate me. I like the smooth and trodden path. But you must talk
with me again some time." She laughed softly. "On top I don't like it at all,
but down deep, it feels real good and refreshing. You are like a whiff of
fresh air in a long closed room. I don't like the draught, but I do like the
fresh air! Can you understand?"

Edith laughed a genuine girlish laugh.

"Then we must not open the window too suddenly!" she exclaimed brightly,
and the two women looked frankly into each other's eyes.

The guests arriving prevented further conversation.

Edith found herself introduced to about fifty ladies, all of whom were
"charmed" to meet her. She was very much accustomed to meeting
strangers who were desirous of knowing the daughter of Mr. Esterbrook,
but she cared little for these affairs. She enjoyed meeting individuals, but
not numbers. When the room became full of chatty women, all indulging in
the same light small talk, Edith became bored. She tried not to show it.
Unconsciously she assumed an air of quiet reserve, which some mistook for
hauteur. So, in spite of her beauty, she was not popular, and had she not
borne the name of Esterbrook, society would have frozen her out. This
afternoon she tried to be pleasing, but it was at best a forced attempt. The
girl so animated and at home before the guests arrived, became silent and
constrained when the room was filled. This irritated Mrs. Lambert
considerably.

When asked by most of the ladies individually, "Why, surely you play
Bridge?"—Edith seemed capable of only one reply, "Yes, but I have been
persuaded to never play again." The ladies raised their brows and
exchanged glances. Most of them had heard that Edith was eccentric, so
they asked no further questions. It seemed to Mrs. Lambert that she might
have given some other reply—not just to show her disapproval of the game
that they all enjoyed. The momentary understanding between Edith and
herself was soon almost entirely erased by impatience at the girl's
frankness.

However, with the guests, the game soon became all absorbing. Of course
"Bridge" players of the "Mediocre Social Set" are not for a moment
considered gamblers. The prizes are simply the token of good-will from the
hostess to her guests. But considering this truth, it was wonderfully
interesting to note the zest and feverish excitement with which these ladies
played for two long hours. After each game, five minutes' relaxation took
place, in which precious moments, the ladies sauntered up to the
refreshment table and renewed their energy for the next onslaught. While
munching various sweet nothings, they exchanged light appropriate gossip,
and learned the minor details concerning friend or foe, as only a "Bridge"
could reveal. At last the final game was to be played. All became still as
death, and every eye watched the play of each card with feverish
excitement. For many, this last game meant the decision for a prize in their
favor. O no! these ladies were not gamblers! They were there for the social
gathering—the game was a mere pastime! But how interesting would be a
"Bridge" party without prizes? Have you ever tried it, hostess? Would you
have the courage? In the same breath that you assure me, "My friends are
not gamblers," I hear you say, "But a bridge without prizes would fall so
flat!"

When the guests were all departed, Mrs. Lambert dressed for dinner in a
rather petulant mood. Her afternoon was decidedly a failure. The main
object of the entertainment was to introduce Miss Esterbrook to her own
circle, and to feel the honor of the introduction belonged to herself. After all
her anticipations, her friends showed plainly their decided indifference to
Edith.

Mr. Lambert's non-appearance at the dinner-hour added to her ruffled mood.

For one hour she awaited him in her boudoir. During that time, she gave
herself up to thoughts now irritating, now pensive. While waiting, she lolled
in a nest of cushions. She looked very alluring in her soft, cream-colored
gown, and even the little frown, flitting with her thoughts, did not lessen the
charm of her childish beauty.

Edith's words came persistently to her mind—"Why don't you choose the
happiest, the best?" The words had a disturbing effect. They insinuated that
she,—Alma Lambert—was not choosing the happiest and best.

It is strange how our lives often prepare us for a certain phrase to strike
home. So the last month had prepared Alma. If she had met Edith two
months sooner, scarcely would her question have been noticed. Anyway, it
would have been laughed at as eccentric and prudish, and then been
forgotten. But the last month had brought a disturbing element into Alma's
even existence. Her husband's irritability, so unprecendented in a man of
such unbounded good-nature, was a surprisingly new condition to be met
with. Often he would come home, tired and haggard, and after the usual
fond greeting and caress, he would begin quite unreasonably to talk of
money and business depression.

When she declared she did not like to talk or hear about business affairs, he
would give some biting reply that made her wince, as if struck by a lash.
Before, he had always laughed at her indifference, but he suddenly changed,
demanding her interest in all kinds of stupid details.

She couldn't understand this change in him. She didn't try to understand it.
But she felt the unpleasantness of the atmosphere, and vague fears of a
coming storm shook her habitual complacency.

To night she was more fearful than usual.

An hour after dinner-time, and her husband not home! It had happened
many times lately, but never without a telephoned excuse.

"Why don't you choose the best, the happiest?"

The thought brought a little stab from conscience. Perhaps she was not
sympathetic enough—perhaps she ought to show more interest in her
husband's business, and that made him unlike himself.

It was a new thought that brought a doubt of herself. She was accustomed to
receive affection and to give it only in return. But now circumstances
determined differently.

They urged her to take the initiative. This was not easy for her to do, but she
longed for the old easy way of loving and spoiling. Perhaps this vague
longing and unrest prompted her to surprise her husband to-night, with an
extra show of patience and affection. Doubtless he would come home in
one of his unattractive moods.

A big sigh of relief accompanied her resolve, and she murmured gently,

"Will is a good old boy anyway, and has always done everything I wished."
That summed up her ideal of a perfect husband. So she concluded to spoil
him a little in return.
The door opened and Will Lambert entered. Alma started from her nest of
cushions.

"Why, Will, how pale you are!" she said kindly, holding out both hands as
he came towards her.

He took them both and put them to his lips. Then he kissed the cherry
mouth, raised sweetly to his.

"Fatigue and hunger, darling," he said in a weary voice.

"Come then to dinner. I have not dined. Just waited and worried over you.
Why didn't you telephone?"

"I didn't intend to be late. Have been walking the streets for an hour,
thinking, thinking, thinking. Forgot the hour entirely!"

"Will! Walking the streets! What can possess you!"

"An evil spirit doubtless," he returned with a sad attempt to smile.

During the meal, his color returned and he talked considerably. But Alma
noticed his tone was forced, and his dark deep-set eyes had a new haunted
expression.

"Where is Harold?" he suddenly asked, looking at the empty chair where

their eight year old boy usually sat.

"Harold! why Will, dear, what is making you so strange? You know he
retires two hours before this."

"O yes," he replied absently. "I missed the little fellow—that is all. Never
thought about the time."

Alma contemplated her husband with a sort of pity.

"He's so worn out, he really acts queer," she thought with a new
consideration possessing her.
Dinner over, they retired to their cozy library where the logs burned brightly
and all looked cheerful comfort.

"Come, dear," said Alma, drawing his big chair nearer to the fire, and
placing a cushion for his feet.

Will looked his surprise. Never before had she attempted to wait upon him.
He had always been the willing slave.

"Thank you, dear," he said tenderly, and he dropped his stalwart form into
the chair with relief.

Alma reached for his paper and then drew a cigar from the stand. Both she
handed to him smiling.

He took them but laid them aside.

"No, no, Alma. I want only you to-night." And he drew her down lovingly
into his lap.

Could it be possible that her slight effort had brought back the old perfect
order of things again? Will was his old self, lovingly tender, to-night.
Weary, yes, but not the slightest irritable. He looked at her long and fixedly
for a few moments and she returned his gaze with a sweet questioning
smile.

"Alma, I'm fearfully worried to-night over business."

"Forget it. Will," she said lightly, placing her cool hand on his hot forehead.
"You say you only want me—then think only of me."

"As usual, you don't want to be bothered talking about it," he said with a
shade of impatience.

"No, no. Will" she answered quickly. "I want to talk with you to-night. You
must tell me every ugly detail. Perhaps I can help you."

He held her out at arms' length, and eyed her curiously.

"Whence this change? Too bad it didn't come sooner. It is too late now," he
said cynically.

Alma felt hurt. Her first attempt to be unselfish he repulsed. Her little
petulant frown appeared, and the light died from her eyes.

Instantly his tone changed. Drawing her face down to his, he murmured
tenderly,

"Smile, dearest. I need it. Yes, the change has come too late, but thank God
it has come. You will have many chances to show your courage, dear."

She drew away from him like a frightened child.

"O, Will, what is going to happen?"

"God alone knows, Alma." Then his eyes shot a sudden fire and the grasp of
his hand hurt.

"Alma, whatever does happen, remember that you are mine,—mine always!
Tell me, could you ever forget that?" he questioned almost fiercely.

Alma's sensitive form quivered, and her eyes filled. She tried to draw her
hands away, but he held them firm.

"You frighten me, Will. Of course I'm always yours. What troubles you,
dear?" she asked tremulously.

A great tenderness superseded his sterner mood. He folded her gently in his
arms.

"You have said it, dear. I am so doubtful about everything to-night. I was
almost foolish enough to think you wouldn't."

Her white arms lovingly encircled his neck and he could feel her tears wet
his face.

"Dear Will, I love you—more to-night than ever. I don't know why.
Something new has come to me—a sort of mother-love for my poor, tired
Will."

Never had he known her in such a mood. He asked no reason for it. It
soothed and quieted his misery. So he gave himself up to being loved as he
never before had been privileged to do.

It was ten o'clock when the bell announced a visitor.

Will started from his chair.

"Who can it be at this hour?" Alma asked wonderingly.

"Who?" returned Will shortly, and they both listened.

Will seemed scarcely able to breathe, until the maid announced "Dr.
Cadman."

"Let him come right in," said Will with evident relief.

Dr. Cadman entered, beaming with the freshness of a morning hour rather
than tired with the late evening.

Alma and Will advanced to meet him and he took one hand of each
simultaneously.

"Too bad to disturb such a happy picture,—firelight and lovelight. How we

bachelors do envy you, lucky dogs!" he said, pressing their hands warmly.

"But, George, we love fine pictures, too, but unfortunately we cannot see
ourselves," returned Alma laughingly.

"Sufficient that you see one another," returned the doctor banteringly.

"Now, Alma," he continued, as he seated himself near the fire, "I have just a
few minutes to see Will on important business. A patient demands my
attention shortly. Are you going to be a good little wife and allow us a few
minutes' conversation?"
"Assuredly," and Alma smiled assent. "But I will vanish in the meantime,
I'm sure to interrupt if I stay."

The two men laughed. As she opened the door, she wafted a kiss to each
one and disappeared.

"Dear girl!" murmured Will.

"Dear girl! I should say so, Will. Then why on earth that sad, mournful
face? I have the check, old boy! Knew you'd come home anxious, so didn't
wait until morning," he added, drawing an envelope from his pocket and
handing it to Will. "Twenty thousand dollars you had to have, didn't you?
Well, I made it $5,000 over so that Alma couldn't suspect, from your
drawing it too tight."

Will took the check mechanically. Speechless and dazed he stood, watching
George with increasing pallor.

"Cousin, what ails you?" asked George with alarm.

"You're so good, that is all,—in fact, too good for a wretch like me! and to
think that it won't help—all that money even can't save me now!"

Haggard and white he sank into the nearest chair and buried his face in his
hands. Sobs convulsed his form as he hid his face from view.

The doctor was momentarily astounded. Will was not the kind to play the
woman, and shame? He couldn't couple the word with Will's straight-
forwardness.

He laid a strong, kind hand upon the bent head.

"Will, you're overwrought. Look up. Be a man."

Will's sobs ceased, and he met Cadman's scrutiny with a sullen doggedness.

"George, you will not call me a man after to-night. I couldn't myself, even."
"Come, out with it," returned Cadman briskly "Don't beat around the bush,
—and I object to your disowning your sex!"

"For God's sake, don't joke!" exclaimed Will fiercely.

"Far from it! Be quick—what awful crime have you committed?"

George possessed a pair of keen gray eyes that compelled frankness.

Will did not hesitate.

"I've lost all—every cent, George! Got desperate. Was fooled into crazy
speculation. Lost all—all, I say, and I'm ruined hopelessly, beyond any help
of yours."

George's face became serious, and he watched Will keenly.

"Didn't I tell you that I would get the money for you tonight? Is that all?" he
asked gravely. "Will, you are hiding something," he added with firmness.

"Yes, there is more," Will replied, a crimson flush surmounting to his

temples. Suddenly he looked around with a hunted expression.

"George, I'm branded a thief! I'll be hounded tomorrow. A thief!—you hear

me? Not a man! Alma's husband—a thief!"

George grasped his shoulder in consternation.

"You're crazy, man! Stop such names! you are exaggerating some mis-step.
Tell me everything! I'll stand by you. Don't be a coward!"

The hunted expression gave way to one of misery.

"George, you're a brick, but you can't save me. When I lost my own money,
I became frenzied—succeed I must or be in disgrace for debt. I don't know
how I did it. I took the bank's money when sure of success—meant to put it
back—speculated with it, lost all, all! I heard tonight they had discovered it.
To-morrow will come the arrest. I'll be a jail-bird soon—a thief behind the
bars!"
George's face became stolidly set.

"How much did you borrow?" he asked calmly.

"Fifty thousand," he answered hoarsely.

"Whew!" returned George, with a low whistle.

Both men stared into the fire with tragic silence.

"Well?" finally asked Will wearily.

George arose and slowly buttoned his coat before replying.

"I must think it over, old boy!" he said kindly, and his voice was husky
through its firmness. "It's a bad case, but there must be a way out of it. I'll
get here soon after daybreak. Think it over hard in the meantime. The best
thing for Alma, must be your first consideration, yourself next."

"Alma! How can she bear it!"

"She'll bear it like a woman, I hope," returned George quickly. "You have
run the gauntlet for her sake, haven't you? You've lived beyond your means,
until debts have accumulated to your distraction. I have not been blind to all
this. But I never dreamed of this climax."

"For her sake, yes, but that makes my sin no lighter," Will returned
gloomily.

"But it makes it less black—anyway to those who care a heap for you!"
George exclaimed, grasping Will's hand.

"You care, now that you know what I am?" asked Will, surprise overcoming
other emotions.

"Now that I know what you are? I know that you are a man up against a
devilish proposition, and all on account of your love for a beautiful,
adorable woman. You don't think that I'd break with you for that, do you?"
A glimmer of hope shot from Will's fine, dark eyes.

"You're even better than I thought you," he returned simply, and the two
men parted without further remark.

As George was about to leave, Alma met him in the foyer.

"Good-bye little girl," he said gravely, "Will doesn't seem very well to-
night. Don't keep him up too late, will you?"

"No, indeed. You notice then, how ill he looks?" she asked, her anxiety
lending a pathos to her beauty.

"Yes, he needs a rest and no worry of any kind. I'll step in tomorrow. Good-
night," and, fearing to lengthen the conversation, he left quickly.

Alma found Will, leaning forward in his chair, and gazing into the fire with
a morbid intensity. So great was his absorption, that he didn't hear her enter
the room. She crossed over to him, and, leaning over his chair, gently she
raised his head and laid it back against the cushions.

He started slightly. "You Alma?" he said wearily. "Our pleasant little

evening is over dear. You had better retire now for I must have an hour or
two alone—to puzzle out a business proposition before I can sleep."

"O, Will, you are too tired. George said that you should retire early."

As she spoke, she caressed his forehead and he closed his eyes in gratitude.

After a moment he opened them upon her fondly.

"George himself gave me the problem to solve," he said gently, "I cannot
sleep now. Go to dreamland, dearest, and don't make it harder for me by
disputing."

"Good-night, then, if you won't come. But don't exhaust yourself, Will."

For answer he drew her down and pressed her closely to his breast.
"Good-night, Alma,—dear little wife," he said in passionate low tones.
"Whatever comes, dearest, remember I have always loved you to
distraction. You believe it?"

"Yes, yes. I know it, Will. Of course you have."

His strange mood disconcerted her and she was glad to go.

Kissing him lightly, she left the room, turning at the door to say smilingly,

"Remember dear, you must not linger long."

Left alone, George's words came more forcibly to Will's tortured brain.

"The best thing for Alma must be your first consideration, yourself next."
The best thing for Alma! The best thing for Alma! Again and again the
question reiterated in his mind. He was undeniably guilty. For a time he
might be free—on bail until his trial—then the prison! A long torturing
shame for Alma. What alternative?

He had thought of one alternative to-night. It had come to him at first as a

wild intangible thought, born of despair. But it gradually took shape and
became proportionate to reason; he had walked the streets for an hour,
courting its possibility.

The thought embodied a lie, and this was the hardest part for Will to submit
to. By nature, he was honest. But for Alma's sake, even a lie was within his
code of honor.

For one hour he debated with himself, ever bringing excuse to bear upon
excuse. Finally his decision came, swift and certain. Alma must be spared
the long misery of trial and imprisonment. Yes, at all costs, Alma first.

He arose quickly and went to his desk.

His hand trembled as he took the paper and placed it for writing. But he was
none the less resolved for this physical weakness.

The first letter he wrote and rewrote many times.

Finally he finished it and addressed it to Alma.

The second he wrote hurriedly and without recopy. This was to George
Cadman. Both letters he left on his desk.

From a small table he took two pictures—one of Alma, one of Harold—and

slipping them into his pocket, he hastily made for the door. Turning
suddenly, he swept the room with one comprehensive longing glance, then
with a heavy sigh he disappeared.
 CHAPTER V.
Edith's Choice.

From childhood, Edith Esterbrook had known George Cadman. The fact
that he was ten years older than herself, rather strengthened their friendship
than otherwise.

As years brought her development into womanhood, Cadman was not slow
to realize and appreciate her attractions. He loved Edith with a strong
devotion, which her young experience did not value. During the last year
several had proposed marriage to her, but for a long time, George alone was
not repulsed. To him she had not yet said a decided "No." She felt sure that
her friendship's love was not the right kind of love for marriage, but she
dreaded to part with him, and so, with an unconsciously selfish
postponement of the final word, she had kept him by her side.

But the last month had brought a change into her life. She had met one
whom she thought she could be happy in marrying,—one Howard Hester,
who loved her passionately at first sight, and declared his love soon after.
He was immensely rich. Riches alone could not tempt Edith, but he also
seemed to possess a character which could adore her without the slightest
criticism. He gained her confidence quickly. To him she confided all her
noble aspirations, all her plans and projects for doing charitable work. To all
he acquiesced, encouraging anything that would add to her joy in life, and
declaring his fortune at her feet. All he asked in return was for himself to be
her first thought and love.

What an ideal life! Edith could think of nothing nobler. It was a shock to
her parents when she declared her desire to marry Howard. She was entirely
too young, and many other objections were given. But all were promptly
overcome by the tactful Howard, and consent was finally gained.
Edith decided to personally tell George before her engagement was
announced, and to this intent she asked him to call that evening.

As she waited for him in her parlor, she gave herself up to contrasting him
with Howard.

"George is a dear," she thought regretfully, "I hope that he gets over his
fondness for me soon. Strange that he seldom agreed with me in any
opinion. Wonder why he cared for me? Always ready to correct me—so
different from Howard! After marriage, I suppose I would have to submit
every plan to George for approval, and abide by his decision. Howard is so
willing to agree and so much more loving."

But with all her satisfied persuasion, Edith felt a strange pang with the
thought that this evening would be the last alone with her life-long friend.

When he entered, she arose to meet him with her customary frankness.

"I have been waiting for you to call this past week as usual, but as you
didn't come I felt at liberty to send for you."

"Always, Edith," he said pressing her hand. "At any time or place, I am at
your command. No one knows that better than yourself."

The meaning of his direct gaze was only too positive, and Edith felt
suddenly overcome with pity and constraint. How could she tell him of her
engagement, when he did not even suspect it? She colored hotly and
dropped her gaze.

"My absence this week has been unavoidable," George continued, as they
both sat down opposite to one another. "You have heard of my cousin, Will
Lambert, and I believe you have met his wife occasionally?"

"O, yes, only a week ago I attended an afternoon affair at her home. What a
pretty, attractive woman she is!"

Walter's face became grave, and his eyes looked unutterable sadness.
"O, Edith, if you could only see her now! Poor little wreck of womanhood!
She is undergoing unbearable sorrow!"

Edith's eyes shot instant interest.

"O, tell me her trouble," she exclaimed quickly, forgetting the object of her
bidding him to call.

"Her husband got into pretty deep trouble, and to avoid her going through
the long trial and imprisonment, he committed suicide by drowning."

"Yes," George continued, "he has left it to me to try to hush it up so that his
wrong-doing wouldn't become public gossip. For a week Eve tried every
sort of pleading and bribery, but all of no avail,—to-morrow's newspapers
will print the whole story, with as much exaggeration as they can possibly
invent. Poor little Alma will be more distracted than ever!"

"O, how cruel it all seems!" exclaimed Edith, entering into his mood of
passionate pity. "How I wish I could go to her!"

George's eyes flashed understanding. "And why not? A woman needs a

woman's sympathy. She has no woman relative and her mother died five
years ago."

"I will go to her," said Edith with calm resolve. "I'm not really a friend, but
we can always come very near to a heart that is wrecked by despair."

"You could, Edith, but not everyone," he said with warm tenderness. "I have
been with her every evening since it happened,—that accounts for my
absence here. She clings to me in the most childishly helpless manner. I
promised to go to-night, too. I would not disappoint her even at the sacrifice
of an evening with you. You realize that sacrifice, Edith? I missed you, to
go to one in sorrow. When may I call again?"

His tone was so tender and expectant, that Edith stood completely abashed,
trying to find words to tell him her secret which would separate them
forever.
"Why, George, I want always to see you," she stammered. Her eyes
drooped, not daring to meet his searching gaze, "But before you go, I ought
to tell you something that may change your desire to come."

"Nothing could do that," he said fervently.

She felt his tone and it spurred her to frankness.

"George," she said gently, "I hope it will not hurt you to know that I am
engaged."

Great as had been the shock of Will's death, it was slight compared to the
awfulness of her revelation. Of late he had felt himself on surer grounds. He
hoped to win Edith. Now by one fell stroke, when his keen fine nature was
vibrating with tragic sympathy, his own hopes were dashed to the ground.

And Edith herself had struck the blow!

Pale and drawn he looked at her with acute misery depicted in every strong
feature.

"Edith! it's all over then—gone forever!" he exclaimed tensely.

Edith's violet eyes suffused with ready tears.

"O, George, don't! don't! I never dreamed that you would take it so to heart!
We shall always, always be the same old friends."

"Friends!" he returned bitterly. "What a mockery! But you are right—we

will always be the same—you a friend, and I"—he paused and swept her
with a glance of passionate admiration—"and I, your abject lover!"

"But, George," she began pleadingly.

"Let us not discuss it, Edith," he interrupted in his old dictative way, "It is a
fierce fate that struck me two fearful blows at once. But don't worry about
me, little one," he added gently, "I'm a man and can bear it. Now I will go to
a little woman who has less strength to overcome."
As he held out his hand, his face became calm and set, and no one could
have guessed the strength summoned to meet the inevitable.

"Good-bye, Edith," he said, quietly. "God bless you and give you all the
happiness you deserve. If you ever need a heart to share a trouble, mine is
always open to you. Good-bye, little one, Good-bye."

And Edith, more overcome than George, could only murmur, "Good-bye,"
and let him go.

Tired, she dropped into a chair. Vaguely she wondered why he did not even
ask who her future husband was to be. Suddenly came the echo of his
"Good-bye, little one, good-bye," and the pathos of it filled her with a
melancholy longing.

She bowed her head in her hands, and wept.

 CHAPTER VI.
The Glamor gone, what is left?

Since the glowing publication of Will Lambert's dishonesty and consequent

suicide, Alma had completely hid herself, and would see no one but George.
Repeatedly the bell announced visitors, but to all she was "not at home,"
and the very sound of the bell filled her with new misery.

For three days society had had the privilege of a new scandal for gossip. In
her mind's eye, Alma pictured her acquaintances exchanging views and
eagerly picking up new scraps of information. In her grief she imagined
they came to her for curiosity only—all the friends of whom she proudly
boasted before were distorted in her feverish brain and became prying
gossips, filled with a mocking pity.

It had rained steadily since morning. The long gloomy day seemed never to
near its close, and Alma watched the clock with impatience for she expected
George in the late afternoon. George never came in the day time before, but
to-night he had a serious case, so he had promised to come to take supper
with Alma and so make the unbearable evening somewhat shorter.

No visitors had bothered her to-day, and it was four o'clock when the bell
first rang its cheery note through the dreary house.

"George!" Alma exclaimed rising from her chair and hastily putting a letter
in her bosom,—a letter she had read and reread many times in her
lonesomeness—Will's last passionate word to her, Will's whole heart
unbared to her to forgive and love as never before! Too late came the
wonderful revelation of a woman's true being—too late came the answering
glow from a heart awakened by the passionate call of love! Will was gone
from her life forever, and her lips could never utter the new things that she
found revealed in herself. Only his memory remained to be cherished. But
she clung to this memory with redoubled fervor. Never for a moment did
she doubt his goodness. Even his double crime assumed no hideous
proportions to her stricken conscience. Both were for her sake, and, let the
world scorn him as it would, she would always consider him a fearful
sacrifice to her selfish life.

This was Alma's first hard life lesson. But she learned it well. All the good
lying dormant under her superficial unreal existence, suddenly became
active and volcanic. Alma was the inevitable sufferer.

The maid came to her half opened door and knocked gently.

"I will be right down," Alma said, and the surprised girl hurried away
without giving the card of the visitor.

Alma descended the stairs slowly, trying hard to prepare herself to give him
a less forlorn welcome.

At the parlor door she halted abruptly. Surprise and consternation

overspread her face. She faced Edith Esterbrook with a mixture of defiance
and hauteur.

"My maid has made a mistake," she said shortly. "I am at home to no one.
You will pardon me, but I cannot receive any visitors."

Most women would have felt the keen repulse, and made a hurried exit. But
Edith was not thinking of herself. She scarcely heard Alma's words. Her
heart and mind were filled with the vision of grief that stood in the doorway
—the pale drawn features, the sunken eyes, and the general hopeless
despairing of face and form.

She advanced to Alma with two outstretched hands.

"Dear Mrs. Lambert, I have not come to you to offer my formal sympathy!
Indeed no! I want to make you believe that my heart grieves with you, and
longs to be a real help and comfort."

Alma looked into the sweet, pleading face. She could read only sincerity.

Mechanically she took the girl's hands.

"But I don't understand," she faltered, "why should you feel interested in me
at all?"

Edith's eyes looked at her with a new light.

"I don't know why, but I am. I feel your sorrow deeply. Perhaps it is because
I am so impressed with the Fatherhood of God, that when I hear of one of
His children suffering, I hear His voice bidding me to go."

Alma looked at her in open wonder.

"And one so young! How can you feel this? I am much older, but I never
even really believed in such a Fatherhood."

Edith led her to a settee.

"O won't you let me stay awhile with you?" she asked gently, "The day
must be very long!"

Alma forgot her pride. Her mind relaxed under the strange personality of
this young friend. For half an hour they talked. Indeed Alma afterward
wondered why she had conversed the most. She found herself gradually
confiding her innermost trials and fears—hopes she had none—and even
went so far as to show Edith how she was to blame for all the disgrace, and
not Will.

Finally she was in tears in Edith's arms, and Edith wept with her.

The bell rang suddenly and they drew apart.

"It is only Dr. Cadman—you know him? Don't go."

"George Cadman! no, I cannot stay. May I come again?"

"Yes, indeed. O thank you for your sweet sympathy."

Edith kissed her forehead and hurried away.

In the hallway, she met George. He took her proffered hand with no sign of
emotion, and "hoped that she was well," in ordinary friendliness. Then he
took from his pocket a letter.

"I was going to call upon you to give you this letter," he said gravely. "You
remember me telling you of that sweet little 'Mormon' girl that I met out
West? I have heard from her now and then since my return, and it hardly
seems possible that now she is grown to womanhood,—just about your age.
She writes that she is coming on a mission in a few weeks, and I can
imagine she'll be quite a charming young lady, from what she was as a
child. She'll be strange and quite lonesome at first. She says there are
mission headquarters here somewhere, but she doesn't know any of these
mission people. May I bring her to call on you when she comes?"

"Yes, indeed!" returned Edith kindly, "Poor child! Alone in this big city
where everyone hates the 'Mormons!' I suppose that I would be prejudiced,
if you had not talked to me about them."

"You and she have a great deal in common, and I think that you will be very
happy to make a real friend of her."

"We'll see. Bring her to me as soon as she comes," replied Edith brightly,
and with a friendly good-bye, she left him.

"He seems not to care very much," reflected Edith, as she walked home.
"After all, men soon forget," she philosophised, "I didn't want him to suffer,
but I thought that he would care a little," she mused with a childish regret,
which she hastily overcame with shame at her sudden selfishness.
 CHAPTER VII
"Go, Preach the Gospel to all the World."

Ephraim was doing some talking. Everyone loved Betty Emmit—young

and old—but some wondered if she would make a good missionary. She
was so full of rollicking fun, that it was not easy to imagine her setting
down to the strict, sober life of a mission. However, those who knew her
well, knew her deep religious nature, which after all was the motive power
of her young life and the source of her merry sunshine disposition.

A farewell party was to be given to Betty at the town hall. Posters were
everywhere hung, and the admonition was given for every one to be
present. The only ones excused would be "tired husbands" who should send
money by their wives.

Betty stood reading one of these posters and laughed to herself.

"Whoever wrote that! The very idea! Here's for equal rights!"

From her pocket, she took her pencil and wrote underneath,

"'Tired wives' will send money by their husbands!"

"What right have you to touch those public posters?" said a voice that made
her turn quickly.

She faced the young man with mock defiance.

"They're my posters, aren't they?"

"Not a bit of it," he replied; his blue eyes laughing into her merry, brown
ones. "Nothing belongs to you now,—you belong to everybody, Miss
Missionary!"
"Indeed!" returned the girl, tossing her curls. "Perhaps, then, you'd like to
take the 'public property' home for safe keeping until to-night?"

"Just why I stopped the car!" exclaimed the youth delighted. "You shouldn't
be wandering around the streets tiring yourself out, for to-night everyone
will want to have a 'farewell' dance with you!"

Betty jumped into the car, her companion following, and the machine raced
off. Once off Main St., Stanley Todd slackened his machine. He turned to
Betty tenderly.

"So girlie, you're off for two whole years? Suppose when you come back,
you'll look down on Ephraim, and such as me."

Betty looked up at the bright face, bronzed by the sun and outdoor-life of
the mountains. Her eyes softened, and sudden tears filled her lovely eyes.

"When Betty Emmit forgets Ephraim and her old friends," she replied
soberly, "the sun will cease to shine!"

"By heck! that sounds just like you!" said the lad, and he gave her arm an
affectionate squeeze. "I wish, though," he added hesitatingly, "you'd be
engaged to me before you leave!"

Betty's forehead puckered thoughtfully,—then she frankly answered.

"Stanley, why do you say that again? It's no sense to be engaged when one
is not in love. You know that I think just heaps of you—as a real, real
brother. I'll never be in love—don't really know what that means,—so you
ought to be satisfied."

"I suppose that I'll have to be," he returned with a sigh. "Well, we won't cry
over it," he said smiling down on her, and giving his machine a little spurt.
"May I escort you to the dance, to-night?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling back at him.

"That'll be some pleasure anyway—to take you to your 'farewell,'" he said

happily.
Betty's eyes flashed merriment.

"I couldn't tell you how many I have said 'yes' to, when they have made the
same request."

"Then I am to be one of a bunch?" he asked disappointedly.

"I belong to everyone—you said it, didn't you?"

"You're incorrigible, Betty!" was his hopeless answer.

*****

Betty's farewell was a gay little affair. Men, women and children came,
everyone bringing a piece of money, from a dime to a dollar, according to
his or her means.

Betty was the centre of adoring friends, all wishing her "Godspeed" on her
mission, and success in spreading the restored Gospel. And at this little
party, there was no long-faced preaching done. Everyone was glad and
smiling, and a "farewell" to a "Mormon" missionary, meant a child-like
display of goodwill and brotherly love,—such as no other church on the
face of God's earth, had yet begun to realize.

The young people made merry in their innocent happy way, and the spirit of
true religion reigned over all,—not the spirit of lifeless piety!

The next day Betty was busy making preparations for departure the
following day, and saying her "good-byes."

There were a number of calls she felt that she must make, on the old or sick,
all of whom would be unhappy not to say good-bye to her,—for
Ephraimites were all like one big family, and a loving relationship was
really felt among its numbers.

As Betty passed through the streets, more than one honest man came up to
her, and grasping her little soft hand in his large work-calloused one,
wished her good luck in a husky voice, and offered her his hard earned
dollar for her mission.
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