lly," she answered. Homer T. Ward nodded his
head, as if well pleased with himself. "You don't need to tell me any
more. I understand, now, exactly. It is very clear what has reformed
Brian Kent; you have been up to your old tricks. It is a wonder you
haven't taken him into your house to live with you,--to save him from
associating with bad people."

He laughed, and when Auntie Sue only smiled, as though humoring him in
his little joke, he added: "By the way, has Betty Jo seen this latest
patient of yours? What does she think of his chances for complete
recovery?"

"Yes," Auntie Sue returned, calmly; "Betty Jo has seen him. But, really,
Homer, I have never asked her what she thought of him."

"Do you know, Auntie Sue," said the banker, reflectively, "I never did
believe that Brian Kent was a criminal at heart."

"I know he is not," she returned stoutly. "But, tell me, Homer, how did
it ever happen?"

"Well, you see," he answered, "young Kent had a wife who couldn't
somehow seem to fit into his life. Ross never went into the details with
me, fully, because that, of course, had no real bearing on the fact that
he stole the money from the bank. But it seems that the youngster was
rather ambitious,--studied a lot outside of business hours and that sort
of thing. I know he made his own way through business college before he
came to us. The wife didn't receive the attention she thought she should
have, I suppose. Perhaps she was right at that. Anyway, she wanted a
good time;--wanted him to take her out more, instead of spending his
spare time digging away at his books. And so it went the usual way,--she
found other company. Rather a gay set, I fancy; at least it led to her
needing more money than he was earning, and so he helped out his salary,
thinking to pay it back before he was caught, I suppose. Then the crash
came,--some other man, you know,--and Brian skipped, which, of course,
put us next to his stealing. I don't know what has become of the woman.
The last Ross knew of her she was living in St. Louis, and running with
a pretty wild bunch,--glad to get rid of Brian, I expect. She couldn't
have really cared so very much for him.

"Do you know, Auntie Sue, I have seen so many cases like this one.
I have been glad, many times, that I never married. And then, again,
sometimes, I have seen homes that have made me sorry I never took the
chance. I am glad you saved the boy, Auntie Sue: I am mighty glad."

"You have ma