wo chairs; and at the foot, one; and in front of that, lying on the
table, a folded bit of paper. Carmichael picked it up and opened it.

It was his prescription for the nitrite of amyl.

He hesitated a moment; then refolded the paper and put it in his
vest-pocket.

Seated in his car, with his hand on the lever, he turned to Scudder,
who was watching him with curious eyes.

"I'm very much obliged to you, Scudder, for taking me through the
house. And I'll be more obliged to you if you'll just keep it to
yourself--what I said to you about last night."

"Sure," said the old man, nodding gravely. "I like ye, doc', and that
kinder talk might do ye harm here in Calvinton. We don't hold much to
dreams and visions down this way. But, say, 'twas a mighty interestin'
dream, wa'n't it? I guess Miss Jean hones for them white pillars,
many a day--they sorter stand for old times. They draw ye, don't
they?"

"Yes, my friend," said Carmichael as he moved the lever, "they speak
of the past. There is a magic in those white pillars. They draw you."

THE EFFECTUAL FERVENT PRAYER

"O-o-o! Danny, oho-o-o! five o'clock!"

The clear young voice of Esther North floated across the snowy fields
to the hill where the children of Glendour were coasting. Her brother
Daniel, plodding up the trampled path beside the glairy track with
half a dozen other boys, dragging the bob-sled on which his little
sister Ruth was seated, heard the call with vague sentiments of
dislike and rebellion. His twelve years rose up in arms against being
ordered by a girl, even if she was sixteen and had begun to put up her
hair and lengthen her skirts. She was a nice girl, to be sure--the
prettiest in Glendour. But she might have had more sense than to call
out that way before all the crowd. He had a good mind to pretend not
to hear her.

But his comrades were not so minded. They had no idea of letting him
evade the situation. They wanted him to stay, but he must do it like a
man.

"Listen at your nurse already?" said one of the older lads mockingly;
"she's a-callin' you. Run along home, boy!"

"Aw, no!" pleaded a youngster, not yet master of the art of irony.
"Don't you mind her, Dan! The coast is just gettin' like glass, and
you're the onliest one to steer the bob. You stay!"

"Please, Danny," said Ruth, keeping her seat as the sled stopped at
the top of the hill, "only once more down! I ain't a bit tired."

"Dannee-ee-ee! O _Danny_!" came the sw