hile under the influence of liquor. And all
through the years that had come and gone they had never heard of him
again, so that she felt she had a right to call herself a widow.

Then one day had come this stranger to Chester, whom Fred must have met,
to learn that the other was his own father. He doubtless had been old
enough to understand how cruelly his beloved mother had been treated in
the past, and it took time to make the boy believe in the protestations
of the prodigal father. As the days passed he saw the other frequently,
and was gradually coming to believe that his reformation had been
sincere.

All the while Mr. Badger had been afraid lest his wife refuse to forgive
him, and receive him. From afar he had taken to watching the humble
cottage home in which his dear ones dwelt, and doubtless each day saw
his yearning to embrace them grow stronger.

Why, Jack could easily understand now his peculiar actions at the time
he stood leaning on the picket fence, and watching; also why he should
seek to hold the trusting little hand of pretty Barbara as he walked at
her side. He would doubtless have given worlds just then for the
privilege of clasping the child in his arms and straining her to his
heart, but he did not dare, lest she repulse him.

It was simply grand, and Jack's heart beat tumultuously as he watched
Mrs. Badger praying for the safety of little Lucy, yes, and also for the
life of the man whom she had for years been trying to put out of her
mind as utterly unworthy of remembrance.

Just then in the light of his noble sacrifice she undoubtedly forgot all
the misery he had caused her during their married life, and could only
think of him as he had appeared during their courtship, when she
believed him the best of his sex.

It would be all right, Jack believed, if only Mr. Badger might find his
Lucy, and be able to save her life. His wife would be only too ready and
willing to let the bitter past sink into oblivion, and begin life anew,
in her belief in his reformation.

So all interest now hung over the burning cottage. Somewhere inside
those doomed walls the man who had once upon a time in his checkered
career served as a fireman on a city force, was groping his way about,
seeking to stumble over the unconscious form of the poor little cripple
whom the pungent smoke had caused to collapse before she could creep to
safety.

His utter ignorance of the interior of the cottage would be against him,