ol scholar nor I
ain't never won no prizes at any Purity League conference, but there's
some guys too rotten even f'r me!"

"But I--I--saved his life, didn't I?"

"That ain't nothin' t' blow about after what you did in that wood. Oh,
wake up an' see just how dirty an' rotten you are!"

Spike rose and stood, his hands tight-clenched, and though he tried to
frown, he couldn't hide the pitiful twitching of his lips nor the quaver
in his voice.

"I guess you mean you're goin' t' give me th' throw-down?"

"Well," answered the Spider, scowling at the sponge in his hand,
"there's jest two or three things as I ain't got no use for, an' one
of 'em's--murder!"

Hereupon Spike shrank away, and the Old Un, reaching out stealthily,
opened the door of the limousine while the Spider fell to work again,
splashing more than ever. Thus as Spike crept away with head a-droop,
the Old Un, all unnoticed, stole after him, his old eyes very bright and
birdlike, and, as he followed, keeping in the shade of hedge and tree as
much as possible, he whispered a word to himself over and over again:

"Lorgorramighty!"

But Spike went on with dragging feet, ignorant that any one followed,
lost in a sudden sense of shame such as he had never known before--a
shame that was an agony: for though his bodily eyes were blinded with
bitter tears, the eyes of his mind were opened wide at last, and he saw
himself foul and dirty, even as the Spider had said. So on stumbling
feet Spike reached a shady, grassy corner remote from all chance of
observation and, throwing himself down there, he lay with his face
hidden, wetting the grass with the tears of his abasement.

When at last he raised his head, he beheld a little old man leaning
patiently against a tree near by and watching him with a pair of baleful
eyes.

"Hello!" said Spike wearily. "Who are you?"

"I'm Fate, I am!" nodded the Old Un. "Persooin' Fate, that's me."

"What yer here for, anyway?" enquired the lad, humble in his abasement.

"I'm here to persoo!"

"Say, now, what's your game; what yer want?"

"I want you, me lad."

"Well, say--beat it, please--I want t' be alone."

"Not much, me lad. I'm Fate, I am, an' when Fate comes up agin murder,
Fate ain't t' be shook off."

"Murder!" gasped Spike. "Oh, my God! I--I ain't--"

The lad sprang to his feet and was running on the instant, but turning
to glance back, tripped over some obstacle and fell. Swaying he rose and
stumbled on, bu