om the poor thing's brain. I hope ye won't mind."

"Not at all," Douglas replied. "I shall be only too pleased to do
anything I can. Shall I go into the house?"

"I've been thinkin' that mebbe it would be better to play out of doors.
Her winder is open, so if ye'd jist go under the shade of that tree
there, she'd hear ye quite plain, but won't be able to see ye. I don't
want her to think that the music is fer her special benefit."

Following Mrs. Dempster's directions, Douglas went to the tree and
leaning his back against the bole began to play a number of old
familiar hymns. It was a peculiar situation in which he thus found
himself, and he wondered what the result would be. He had entered
enthusiastically into the widow's little plan, and he never played so
effectively as he did this morning. He felt that a great deal was at
stake, and he must do his best. He recalled how a certain woman had
taken him to task when she learned that he played the violin, which she
called the "devil's snare" for luring people to destruction. He had
tried to reason with the woman, but to no avail. He believed if she
knew what a blessing his playing had been to so many people she would
really change her mind.

Douglas had been playing for some time when his attention was attracted
by the shoe-maker, who had risen from the chair and was walking toward
the house. No sooner had he entered by the back door than Mrs.
Dempster followed. Douglas went on with his music, at the same time
wondering what was in their minds.

He had not long to wait, however, for presently the widow came to the
door and beckoned him to come. He at once obeyed, and crossed over to
where she was standing.

"Don't make any noise," she warned, "but foller me. I want to show ye
something."

Tiptoeing across the floor, Mrs. Dempster led him to the door of the
little room where the invalid was lying. Pausing just at the entrance
and looking in, the sight which met his eyes was most impressive.
Bending over the bed was Joe with his face close to Jean's, whose arms
were clasped about her father's neck. They were both sobbing, though
neither uttered a word. Douglas grasped the whole situation in an
instant, and turning, he quietly retreated through the kitchen and out
of doors. He was at once joined by Mrs. Dempster. Tears were
streaming down her cheeks, and Douglas' own eyes were moist.

"What d'ye think of that, now?" the good woman questioned.