king with almost his
accustomed vivacity to Winny. He hadn't the least idea that she had
stood in the doorway the evening before, and watched him go stumbling
and grumbling up the stairs. Theodore glanced from one bright handsome
face to the other, and grew silent and thoughtful.

"Where is your mother?" he said at last, suddenly addressing Winny.

"She is lying down, nearly sick with a headache. I feel troubled about
mother; she doesn't seem well. I wish you would call on your way down
town, Theodore, and send the doctor up."

Pliny noted the look of deep anxiety that instantly spread over
Theodore's face, and the many anxious questions that he asked, and grew
puzzled and curious. What position did this young man occupy in this
dainty little house? Was he adopted brother, friend, or only boarder?
Why was he so deeply interested in the mother? Oh he didn't know the
dear little old lady and her story of the "many mansions," nor the many
dear and tender and motherly deeds that she had done for this boarder of
hers, and how, now that he was in a position to pay her with "good
measure, pressed down and running over," he still gave to her
respectful, loving, almost adoring reverence. Pliny had not been a
familiar friend of Theodore's in the days when the latter had heated his
coffee at the old lady's little kitchen stove, and the stylish Winny had
made distracting little cream cakes for his saloon. Indeed the
friendship that had sprung up between these two was something singular
to them both, and had been the outgrowth of earnest efforts on
Theodore's part, and many falls and many repentings on Pliny's.

"What a delightful home you have," Pliny said, eagerly, as the two young
men lingered together in the hall; and then his face darkened as he
added: "It is the first table I have sat down to in many a day without
being tempted on every side by my faithful imp, starting up in some
shape or other, to coax me to ruin. I tell you, Mallery, you know
nothing about it."

"Yes, I do," Theodore answered, positively. "And I know you're in dire
need of help. Come home with me to dinner, will you?"

Pliny shook his head.

"Can't. Some wretched nuisance and her daughter are to dine with us, and
I promised mother I would be at home and on duty. I must go up directly,
and there is a car coming. Theodore, don't think me an ungrateful fool.
I know what I think of myself and of you, and if ever I _am_ anything
but a drunkard, why--Neve