beef, for he was hungry. "Smart as a
steel trap, and onderstan's his business. I never see a fireman what hed
a better chance o' risin' to an ingineer. He knows Her pretty nigh's
well ez I do. I've took real comfort in learning him all I could. But
I'm afeerd, sometimes, he's on a down-grade and the brakes don't work."

"You mean that he drinks, don't you, father?" asked the sharp-eyed boy
at his elbow.

"_There_, father!" interjected the mother. "You might 'a' known he'd
onderstan', no matter how you put it!"

"I ain't afeered o' my boy blabbin'!" The brawny hand stroked the thin
light hair of his only child. "An' I want he should learn to hate the
stuff. It's the devil's best drivin' wheel--liquor is. I'd ruther lay
you with my own han's 'cross the rails this very night, an' drive Her
right over you, than to know that you'd grow up a drunkard. Never do you
forget them words, Junior! I _mean_ every one o' them!"

The boy started at the earnestness of the exhortation, winked hard to
keep his eyes dry, and changed the subject. "Hev you noticed my lily
to-day, mother? I guess it'll be wide open by the time you get in
to-night, father."

They all turned to look at the tall stem, crowned by the unfolding
calyx. "Junior's goin' to be a master-hand with flowers," observed the
mother. "He saves me pretty nigh all the trouble o' takin' keer of 'em.
I've been thinkin' _that_ might be a good business for him when he grows
up."

She was always forecasting his future with more anxiety than generally
enters into maternal hopes and fears. When but a year old, he had fallen
from the arms of a neighbor who had caught him up from the floor in a
fit of tipsy fondness. The child's back and hip were severely injured.
He had not walked a step until he was five years of age, and would be
lame always. He was now twelve--a dwarf in statue, hump-backed,
weazen-faced and shrill-voiced, unsightly in all eyes but those of his
parents. To them he was a miracle of precocity and beauty. His mother
took in fine ironing to pay for his private tuition from a public
school-teacher who lived in the neighborhood. He learned fast and
eagerly. His father, at the teacher's suggestion, subscribed to a
circulating library and the same kind friend selected books for the
cripple's reading. There was a hundred dollars in the savings bank,
against the name of "Topliffe Briggs, Junior," deposited, dollar by
dollar, and representing countless acts of self-den