er ran to him and eased him into his chair. "Your son is here,
and the man who has brought nothing but ill luck will leave you. I
tried to soften this, but couldn't," Witherspoon's head shook as he
looked up at him. "Wait a moment, and I will call him. No, don't get
up."

DeGolyer hastened to the front door, and standing on the steps, he
called: "Henry! oh, Henry!"

"All right, Hank."

Young Witherspoon got out of the cab and came up the steps.

"He is waiting for you, Henry." And speaking to the footman, DeGolyer
added: "There's nothing the matter. Send those girls about their
business."

Young Witherspoon followed DeGolyer into the library. The merchant was
standing with his shaky hands on the back of a chair. He stepped
forward and tried to speak, but failed.

"I'm your son. Hank did as I told him. It's all right. I've had a
fever--he's going to fall, Hank!"

They eased him down into his leather-covered chair.

"I see it now," the old man muttered. "Yes, I can see it. Come here."

The young man leaned over and put his arms about his father's neck. "I
will go into the store with you when I get just a little stronger--I
will do anything you want me to. I've had an awful time--awful--but
it's all right now. Hank found me in New Orleans, scrubbing a floor;
but it's all right now."

"I'll get him some brandy," said DeGolyer.

"No," Witherspoon objected, "I'll be myself in a minute. Never was so
shocked in my life. Who ever heard of such a thing? Of course you
couldn't soften it. Let me look at you, my son. How do I know what to
believe? No, there's no mistake now."

He got up, and holding the young man's hands, stood looking at him.
"Who's that?" he asked.

They heard voices. Mrs. Witherspoon and Ellen were coming down the
hall. DeGolyer stepped hastily to the door.

"Oh, what are you doing here?" Ellen cried. "I saw somebody--Miss
Miller. She didn't say so, but I know that she wants me to kiss you
for her, and I will."

"Ellen!" Witherspoon exclaimed, and just then she saw that a stranger
was present.

"Excuse me," she said.

DeGolyer took her by the hand, and as Mrs. Witherspoon came up he held
out his other hand to her. He led them both to the threshold of the
library, gently drew them into the room, and quickly stepping out,
closed the door and hastened upstairs.

As he entered his room he thought that he heard a cry, and he
listened, but naught save a throbbing silence came from below. He sat