needed his care, remaining perfectly sober
meanwhile. Hope sprang up in Mary's heart--for love believeth all
things.

At night when he went to bed and she carefully locked the doors and
took the keys to her room, she breathed a sigh of relief. One more day
won!

But alas for Mary's hopes! They were built upon the slipping, sliding
sands of human desire. One night she found him in the office of the
hotel; a red-faced, senseless, gibbering old man, arguing theology with
a brother Scotchman, who was in the same condition of mellow
exhilaration.

Mary's white face as she guided her father through the door had an
effect upon the men who sat around the office. Kind-hearted fellows
they were, and they felt sorry for the poor little motherless girl,
sorry for "old Doc" too. One after another they went home, feeling just
a little ashamed.

The bartender, a new one from across the line, a dapper chap with
diamonds, was indignant. "I'll give that old man a straight pointer,"
he said, "that his girl has to stay out of here. This is no place for
women, anyway"--which is true, God knows.

Five years went by and Mary Barner lived on in the lonely house and did
all that human power could do to stay her father's evil course. But the
years told heavily upon him. He had made some fatal mistakes in his
prescribing, and the people had been compelled to get in another
doctor, though a great many of those who had known him in his best days
still clung to the "old man" in spite of his drinking. They could not
forget how he had fought with death for them and for their children.

Of all his former skill but little remained now except his wonderful
presence in the sick-room.

He could still inspire the greatest confidence and hope. Still at his
coming a sick man's fears fell away from him, and in their stead came
hope and good cheer. This was the old man's good gift that even his
years of sinning could not wholly destroy. God had marked him for a
great physician.

CHAPTER III

THE PINK LADY

When Mrs. Francis decided to play the Lady Bountiful to the Watson
family, she not only ministered to their physical necessity but she
conscientiously set about to do them good, if they would be done good
to. Mrs. Francis's heart was kind, when you could get to it; but it was
so deeply crusted over with theories and reflections and abstract
truths that not very many people knew that she had one.

When little Danny's arms were thrown aroun