is you, Phil dear. You must have felt me wishing for you. Come, come
in, boy! You don't have half enough of 'high jinks'!"

He shook his head silently.

She made a little grimace. "I forgot--the Cloth does not dance. But
surely the Cloth may look on?"

"From afar off, perhaps, out of the way of temptation."

He spoke smilingly, but she reproached herself for thoughtlessness.
Philip was very careful not to present himself anywhere that his
presence might cause restraint or embarrassment, he never forgot, no
matter if others forgot, that he was the son of a convict.

"Then I shall sit out here with you." As she drew closer to him, she saw
his face clearly in the light that streamed from the open doorway. It
was very pale. "Oh!" she cried. "What is the matter, Philip?"

"My father--"

Her hand went to her heart.

"Not bad news," he said quickly. "Good news. To-day I had a letter from
the Governor."

The newly elected Governor of the State had been the presiding judge at
Jacques Benoix' trial.

"The Governor! Well? Well?"

"He said--it was a personal letter, you understand, nothing official. He
said that he had always entertained grave doubts as to the justice of
father's sentence, and that if I could secure the signature of certain
men in the State, he would be glad to consider a petition for pardon."

* * * * *

In the house, James Thorpe, waiting for Mrs. Kildare's return, after
some time became aware that he was not the only person in the room not
dancing. A girl in apple-green sat, with a rather fixed smile on her
lips, watching three of the young men teaching Jacqueline a new step,
while Percival Channing produced upon the piano a tune too recent for
the resources of the graphophone. It occurred to him that Jemima's party
might leave something to be desired on the part of its instigator. He
crossed the room.

Jemima withdrew her eyes from the dancers with an effort. She had
evidently forgotten his existence. "But what have you done with mother?"
she demanded. "I thought you were having such a nice time with her all
to yourself."

He explained.

"Oh, Philip, of course! Mother does spoil Philip dreadfully, poor
fellow! She was a great friend of his mother's, you know, and his father
is--but of course you know about his father. Phil simply worships
mother, and I think she likes it. Any woman does," said Jemima, with the
air of elderly wisdom which always amused Professo