be allowed to sleep. Yes, that was what he wanted; he was
so drowsy. As he went up the steps between the two men, a haggard
face peered at him over the rail. It was familiar; he felt that some
recognition was due, for it was a woman's face. He tried to smile. Then
he was on a bed, and--and--sleep at last.

When the three men with the silence of disaster over them passed
struggling into the house, Mrs. Porter threw herself on Allis's neck,
and a passion of tears flooded down and damped the girl's shoulder.

"God be thanked, God be thanked!" gasped the troubled woman, and one
hand that was over the girl's shoulder patted her with erratic rapidity.
Then she interrupted herself. "What am I saying--it's wicked, and Mr.
Mortimer like that. But I can't help it--I can't help it. Oh, Allis!
my heart was in my mouth; I feel that some day you will come home like
this."

At that instant Gaynor dashed by them, leaped into the buggy, and
called, as he drove off: "I'll have the docthor in a jiffy; the young
man's all right!" He was still talking as the whirr of swift-rushing
wheels smothered out his voice, and the dust rose like a steam-cloud,
almost blotting him from the landscape.

"Oh, girl! I thought you'd been killed."

"Here, sit down, mother; you're all worked up," and Allis put a cool
hand on her mother's hot forehead.

But the shock to her feelings had loosed the good woman's vocabulary.
At all times smouldered in her heart a hatred of racing, even of the
horses. "It's the anger of God," Mrs. Porter denounced vehemently. "This
gambling and racing is contrary to His law. Never a night passes, Allis,
that I do not pray to God that He may open your father's eyes to the sin
of racing. No good can come of it--no good has ever come of it--nothing
but disaster and trouble. In a day the substance of a year is wasted.
There never can be prosperity living in sin."

"Hush, mother," crooned Allis, softly. This outburst from Mrs. Porter
startled the girl; it was so passionate, so vehement. When they had
talked of racing in the home life the mother had nearly always preserved
a reproachful silence; her attitude was understood and respected.

"I must speak, girl," she said again; "this sinful life is crushing me.
Do you think I feel no shame when I sit in meeting and hear our good
minister denounce gambling and racing? I can feel his eyes on me, and I
cannot raise my voice in protest, for do not I countenance it? My
people were all