it to sustain me,
Grant," she went on seriously, "so far as I'm concerned, but I can feel
how it would be to--well, to some one who needed it."

Under the murmur of the crowd, Laura continued: "I know exactly with
what emotion pretty little Mrs. Joe Calvin will hear of this episode."

"What?" queried Grant absently. His attention left her again, for the
men from South Harvey at whom he was directing volts of courage from his
blazing eyes.

"Well--she'll be scared to death for fear mother and I will cut her
socially for it! She's dying to get into the inner circle, and she'll
abuse little Joe for this--which," smiled Laura, "will be my revenge,
and will be badly needed by little Joe." But she was talking to deaf
ears.

A street car halted them before Brotherton's store for a minute. Grant
looked anxiously in the door way, and saw only Miss Calvin, who turned
away her head, after smiling at her brother.

"I wonder where George can be?" asked Grant.

"Don't you know?" replied Laura, looking wonderingly at him. "There's a
little boy at their house!"

The crowd was hooting and cheering and the procession was just ready to
turn into the court house corner, when Grant felt Laura's quick hand
clasp. Grant was staring at Kenyon, white and wild-eyed, standing near
them on the curb.

"Yes," he said in a low voice, "I see the poor kid."

"No--no," she cried, "look down the block--see that electric! There
comes father, bringing mother back from the depot--Oh, Grant--I don't
mind for me, I don't mind much for father--but mother--won't some one
turn them up that street! Oh, Grant--Grant, look!"

Less than one hundred feet before them the electric runabout was
beginning to wobble unsteadily. The guiding hand was trembling and
nervous. Mrs. Nesbit, leaning forward with horror in her face, was
clutching at her husband's arm, forgetful of the danger she was running.
The old Doctor's eyes were wide and staring. He bore unsteadily down
upon the procession, and a few feet from the head of the line, he jumped
from the machine. He was an old man, and every year of his seventy-five
years dragged at his legs, and clutched his shaking arms.

"Joe Calvin--you devil," he screamed, and drew back his cane, "let her
go--let her go."

The crowd stood mute. A blow from the cane cracked on the young legs as
the Doctor cried:

"Oh, you coward--" and again lifted his cane. Joe Calvin tried to back
the prancing horse away. The blow hit the