helper the moment they had deposited their burden on the
bed. Presently he came out into the hall, and closing the door behind
him followed Dora lightly and swiftly down the stairs. Not a word passed
between them until he stood with his hand on the night-latch; then he
said:

"Can I serve you in any way to-night, Miss Hastings?"

The reply was irrelevant but very earnest:

"Mr. Mallery, I do not know how to thank you for this night's kindness."

"There is no need of thanks," he said, gently. "Take heart of grace,
Miss Hastings. God helping us we will save him yet. I had selected him
for my subject of special pleading before I knew who he was."

Dora's white lips quivered a little.

"Then there are two to pray for him!" she said, eagerly.

"Yes, and 'if two of you shall agree'--you know. Good-night."

He had one more hard task to perform. The carriage was waiting, and the
other drunken son must be conveyed to his father's house. A few moments
of rapid driving brought them to the modest white house, with its green
blinds, one of them with the slats turned so that the pale tearful
watcher at the window could see the carriage, and before Theodore had
time to ring the door was unbolted, and this time it was a gray-haired
father who received them. Grim and silent was he, but ever and anon as
they were passing up the stairs they heard a low heart-rending moan from
the poor mother, who had left the window and buried her head among the
cushions of the sofa. Theodore knew nothing about the sweet sleeping
baby who had nestled so cozily in the great rocking-chair twenty-three
years before; but the mother did, and had lived to understand that had
her precious baby Benny slept the sleep that knows no waking when in his
infancy, it would have been infinitely better than the stupor of body
and brain that held him now.

"Young man," said Mr. Phillips, as they reached the outer door again, "I
don't know who you are, but I am thankful that you have saved us from
any further disgrace by bringing him home. God grant that this night's
work may be a warning to you, and that you may never need such
disgraceful help for yourself."

He evidently mistook Theodore for one of the boon companions of his son.
The driver, overhearing the remark, chuckled softly, and remarked to
himself: "That's a good one! He's mistook his chap this time, I could
tell him;" but Theodore bowed in respectful silence, and felt a
consuming pity for that heavil