ngry for loving intimacy with this fine lad, and stammered in his
words. "We are to be the same ... brothers ... that we were long ago!"

"That's for you to say, old man," replied Louis, who was pleased and
even flattered, and petted Arthur's hands. "I always had to do as you
said, and was glad to be your slave. I have been the faithful one all
these years. It is your turn now."

After that Arthur cared little who came to see him. He was no longer
alone. This youth loved him with the love of fidelity and gratitude, to
which he had no claim except by adoption from Mrs. Anne Dillon; but it
warmed his heart and cheered his spirit so much that he did not discuss
with himself the propriety of owning and enjoying it. He looked with
delight on Louis' mother when she came later in the day, and welcomed
him as a mother would a dear son. A nun accompanied her, whose costume
gave him great surprise and some irritation. She was a frank-faced but
homely woman, who wore her religious habit with distinction. Arthur felt
as if he were in a chapel while she sat by him and studied his face. His
mother did the talking for him, compared his features with the portrait
on the wall, and recalled the mischievous pranks of his wild boyhood,
indirectly giving him much information as to his former relationships
with the visitors. Mrs. Everard had been fond of him, and Sister Mary
Magdalen had prepared him for his first communion. This fact the nun
emphasized by whispering to him as she was about to leave:

"I hope you have not neglected your religious duties?"

"Monsignor will tell you," he said with an amused smile. He found no
great difficulty in dealing with the visitors that came and went during
the first week. Thanks to his mother's tactful management no hitches
occurred more serious than the real Arthur Dillon might have encountered
after a long absence. The sick man learned very speedily how high his
uncle stood in the city, for the last polite inquiry of each visitor was
whether the Senator had called to welcome his nephew. In the narrow
world of the Endicotts the average mind had not strength enough to
conceive of a personality which embraced in itself a prize-fighter and a
state senator. The terms were contradictory. True, Nero had been actor
and gladiator, and the inference was just that an American might achieve
equal distinction; but the Endicott mind refused to consider such an
inference. Arthur Dillon no longer found anything abs