ome up and, of course, I let you know, as I promised
I would. But it's all right, Mrs. Ruthven, because Jack said the stakes
will not be high this time--"

"You accepted!" demanded Alixe, in quick displeasure.

"Why, yes--as the stakes are not to amount to anything--"

"Gerald!"

"What?" he said uneasily.

"You promised me that you would not play again in my house!"

"I--I said, for more than I could afford--"

"No, you said you would not play; that is what you promised, Gerald."

"Well, I meant for high stakes; I--well, you don't want to drive me out
altogether--even from the perfectly harmless pleasure of playing for
nominal stakes--"

"Yes, I do!"

"W-why?" asked the boy in hurt surprise.

"Because it is dangerous sport, Gerald--"

"What! To play for a few cents a point--"

"Yes, to play for anything. And as far as that goes there will be no
such play as you imagine."

"Yes, there will--I beg your pardon--but Jack Ruthven said so--"

"Gerald, listen to me. A bo--a man like yourself has no business playing
with people whose losses never interfere with their appetites next day.
A business man has no right to play such a game, anyway. I wonder what
Mr. Neergard would say if he knew you--"

"Neergard! Why, he does know."

"You confessed to him?"

"Y-es; I had to. I was obliged to--to ask somebody for an advance--"

"You went to him? Why didn't you go to Captain Selwyn?--or to Mr.
Gerard?"

"I did!--not to Captain Selwyn--I was ashamed to. But I went to Austin
and he fired up and lit into me--and we had a muss-up--and I've stayed
away since."

"Oh, Gerald! And it simply proves me right."

"No, it doesn't; I did go to Neergard and made a clean breast of it. And
he let me have what I wanted like a good fellow--"

"And made you promise not to do it again!"

"No, he didn't; he only laughed. Besides, he said that he wished he had
been in the game--"

"What!" exclaimed Alixe.

"He's a first-rate fellow," insisted Gerald, reddening; "and it was very
nice of you to let me bring him over to-day. . . . And he knows
everybody downtown, too. He comes from a very old Dutch family, but he
had to work pretty hard and do without college. . . . I'd like it
awfully if you'd let me--if you wouldn't mind being civil to him--once
or twice, you know--"

Mrs. Ruthven lay back in her seat, thoroughly annoyed.

"My theory," insisted the boy with generous conviction, "is that a man
is what he makes himself. Pe