LO, MICHAEL!

BY

GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL

 "But, lo, Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me. "

 --DANIEL, 10:13. 

CHAPTER I

"Hi, there! Mikky! Look out!"

It was an alert voice that called from a huddled group of urchins inthe forefront of the crowd, but the child flashed past without heeding, straight up the stone steps where stood a beautiful baby smiling on thecrowd. With his bundle of papers held high, and the late morning sunlightcatching his tangle of golden hair, Mikky flung himself toward the littleone. The sharp crack of a revolver from the opposite curbstone wassimultaneous with their fall. Then all was confusion. 

It was a great stone house on Madison Avenue where the crowd had gathered. An automobile stood before the door, having but just come quietly up, andthe baby girl three years old, in white velvet, and ermines, with her darkcurls framed by an ermine-trimmed hood, and a bunch of silk rosebuds poisedcoquettishly over the brow vying with the soft roses of her cheeks came outthe door with her nurse for her afternoon ride. Just an instant the nursestepped back to the hall for the wrap she had dropped, leaving the babyalone, her dark eyes shining like stars under the straight dark brows, asshe looked gleefully out in the world. It was just at that instant, as ifby magic, that the crowd assembled. 

Perhaps it would be better to say that it was just at that minute that thecrowd focused itself upon the particular house where the baby daughterof the president of a great defaulting bank lived. More or less all themorning, men had been gathering, passing the house, looking up withtroubled or threatening faces toward the richly laced windows, shakingmenacing heads, muttering imprecations, but there had been no disturbance, and no concerted crowd until the instant the baby appeared. 

The police had been more or less vigilant all the morning but had seennothing to disturb them. The inevitable small boy had also been inevidence, with his natural instinct for excitement. Mikky with his papersoften found himself in that quarter of a bright morning, and the starryeyes and dark curls of the little child were a vision for which he oftensearched the great windows as he passed this particular house: but the manwith the evil face on the other side of the street, resting a shaking handagainst the lamp post, and sighting the baby with a vindictive eye, hadnever been seen there before. It was Mikky who noticed him first: Mikky, who circling around him innocently had heard his imprecations against therich, who caught the low-breathed oath as the baby appeared, and saw theugly look on the man's face. With instant alarm he had gone to the otherside of the street, his eye upon the offender, and had been the first tosee the covert motion, the flash of the hidden weapon and to fear theworst. 

But a second behind him his street companions saw his danger and cried out, too late. Mikky had flung himself in front of the beautiful baby, coveringher with his great bundle of papers, and his own ragged, neglected littlebody; and receiving the bullet intended for her, went down with her as shefell. 

Instantly all was confusion. 

A child's cry--a woman's scream--the whistle of the police--the angry roarof the crowd who were like a pack of wild animals that had tasted blood. Stones flew, flung by men whose wrongs had smothered in their breasts andbred a fury of hate and murder. Women were trampled upon. Two of the greatplate glass windows crashed as the flying missiles entered the magnificenthome, regardless of costly lace and velvet hangings. 

The chauffeur attempted to run his car around the corner but was held up atonce, and discreetly took himself out of the way, leaving the car in thehands of the mob who swarmed into it and over it, ruthlessly disfiguring itin their wrath. There was the loud report of exploding tires, the rippingof costly leather cushions, the groaning of fine machinery put to tortureas the fury of the mob took vengeance on the car to show what they wouldlike to do to its owner. 

Gone into bankruptcy! He! With a great electric car like that, and servantsto serve him! With his baby attired in the trappings of a queen andhis house swathed in lace that had taken the eyesight from many a poorlace-maker! He! Gone into bankruptcy, and slipping away scot free, whilethe men he had robbed stood helpless on his sidewalk, hungry and shabby andhopeless because the pittances they had put away in his bank, the result ofslavery and sacrifice, were gone, --hopelessly gone! and they were too old, or too tired, or too filled with hate, to earn it again. 

The crowd surged and seethed madly, now snarling like beasts, now rumblingportentously like a storm, now babbling like an infant; a great emotionalfrenzy, throbbing with passion, goaded beyond fear, desperate with need;leaderless, and therefore the more dangerous. 

The very sight of that luxurious baby with her dancing eyes and happysmiles "rolling in luxury, " called to mind their own little puny darling, grimy with neglect, lean with want, and hollow-eyed with knowledgeaforetime. Why should one baby be pampered and another starved? Why did thebank-president's daughter have any better right to those wonderful furs andthat exultant smile than their own babies? A glimpse into the depths of therooms beyond the sheltering plate glass and drapery showed greater contrasteven than they had dreamed between this home and the bare tenements theyhad left that morning, where the children were crying for bread and thewife shivering with cold. Because they loved their own their anger burnedthe fiercer; and for love of their pitiful scrawny babies that flower-likechild in the doorway was hated with all the vehemence of their untamednatures. Their every breath cried out for vengeance, and with the bruteinstinct they sought to hurt the man through his child, because they hadbeen hurt by the wrong done to their children. 

The policeman's whistle had done its work, however. The startled inmates ofthe house had drawn the beautiful baby and her small preserver within theheavy carven doors, and borne them back to safety before the unorganizedmob had time to force their way in. Amid the outcry and the disorder no onehad noticed that Mikky had disappeared until his small band of companionsset up an outcry, but even then no one heard. 

The mounted police had arrived, and orders were being given. The man whohad fired the shot was arrested, handcuffed and marched away. The peoplewere ordered right and left, and the officer's horses rode ruthlesslythrough the masses. Law and order had arrived and there was nothing for thedowntrodden but to flee. 

In a very short time the square was cleared and guarded by a large force. Only the newspaper men came and went without challenge. The threateninggroups of men who still hovered about withdrew further and further. Thewrecked automobile was patched up and taken away to the garage. The streetbecame quiet, and by and by some workmen came hurriedly, importantly, andput in temporary protections where the window glass had been broken. 

Yet through it all a little knot of ragged newsboys stood their ground infront of the house. Until quiet was restored they had evaded each renewedcommand of officer or passer-by, and stayed there; whispering now and againin excited groups and pointing up to the house. Finally a tall policemanapproached them:

"Clear out of this, kids!" he said not unkindly. "Here's no place for you. Clear out. Do you hear me? You can't stay here no longer:"

Then one of them wheeled upon him. He was the tallest of them all, withfierce little freckled face and flashing black eyes in which all the evilpassions of four generations back looked out upon a world that had alwaysbeen harsh. He was commonly known as fighting Buck. 

"Mikky's in dare. He's hurted. We kids can't leave Mick alone. He might bedead. "

Just at that moment a physician's runabout drew up to the door, and thepoliceman fell back to let him pass into the house. Hard upon him followedthe bank president in a closed carriage attended by several men in uniformwho escorted him to the door and touched their hats politely as he vanishedwithin. Around the corners scowling faces haunted the shadows, and murmuredimprecations were scarcely withheld in spite of the mounted officers. Ashot was fired down the street, and several policemen hurried away. Butthrough it all the boys stood their ground. 

"Mikky's in dare. He's hurted. I seen him fall. Maybe he's deaded. We kidswant to take him away. Mikky didn't do nothin', Mikky jes' tried to saveder little kid. Mikky's a good'un. You get the folks to put Mikky out here. We kids'll take him away"

The policeman finally attended to the fierce pleading of the ragamuffins. Two or three newspaper men joined the knot around them and the story waspresently written up with all the racy touches that the writers of the hourknow how to use. Before night Buck, with his fierce black brows drawn inhelpless defiance was adorning the evening papers in various attitudes asthe different snapshots portrayed him, and the little group of newsboys andboot-blacks and good-for-nothings that stood around him figured for once inthe eyes of the whole city. 

The small band held their place until forcibly removed. Some of them werebarefoot, and stood shivering on the cold stones, their little sickly, grimy faces blue with anxiety and chill. 

The doctor came out of the house just as the last one, Buck, was beingmarched off with loud-voiced protest. He eyed the boy, and quicklyunderstood the situation. 

"Look here!" he called to the officer. "Let me speak to the youngster. He'sa friend, I suppose, of the boy that was shot?"

The officer nodded. 

"Well, boy, what's all this fuss about?" He looked kindly, keenly into thedefiant black eyes of Buck. 

"Mikky's hurted--mebbe deaded. I wants to take him away from dare, " heburst forth sullenly. "We kids can't go off'n' leave Mikky in dare wid derich guys. Mikky didn't do no harm. He's jes tryin' to save de kid. "

"Mikky. Is that the boy that took the shot in place of the little girl?"

The boy nodded and looked anxiously into the kindly face of the doctor. 

"Yep. Hev you ben in dare? Did youse see Mikky? He's got yaller hair. IsMikky deaded?"

"No, he isn't dead, " said the physician kindly, "but he's pretty badlyhurt. The ball went through his shoulder and arm, and came mighty near somevital places. I've just been fixing him up comfortably, and he'll be allright after a bit, but he's got to lie very still right where he is and betaken care of. "

"We kids'll take care o' Mikky!" said Buck proudly. "He tooked care ofJinney when she was sick, an' we'll take care o' Mikky, all right, allright. You jes' brang him out an' we'll fetch a wheelbarry an' cart himoff'n yer han's. Mikky wouldn't want to be in dare wid de rich guys. "

"My dear fellow, " said the doctor, quite touched by the earnestness inBuck's eyes, "that's very good of you, I'm sure, and Mikky ought toappreciate his friends, but he's being taken care of perfectly right wherehe is and he couldn't be moved. It might kill him to move him, and if hestays where he is he will get well. I'll tell you what I'll do, " he addedas he saw the lowering distress in the dumb eyes before him, "I'll give youa bulletin every day. You be here to-night at five o'clock when I come outof the house and I'll tell you just how he is. Then you needn't worry abouthim. He's in a beautiful room lying on a great big white bed and he haseverything nice around him, and when I came away he was sleeping. I cantake him a message for you when I go in to-night, if you like. "

Half doubtfully the boy looked at him. 

"Will you tell Mikky to drop us down word ef he wants annythin'? Will youast him ef he don't want us to git him out?"

"Sure!" said the doctor in kindly amusement. "You trust me and I'll makegood. Be here at five o'clock sharp and again to-morrow at quarter toeleven. "

"He's only a slum kid!" grumbled the officer. "'Tain't worth while to takeso much trouble. 'Sides, the folks won't want um botherin' 'round. "

"Oh, he's all right!" said the doctor. "He's a friend worth having. Youmight need one yourself some day, you know. What's your name, boy? Whoshall I tell Mikky sent the message?"

"Buck, " said the child gravely, "Fightin' Buck, they calls me. "

"Very appropriate name, I should think, " said the doctor smiling. "Well, run along Buck and be here at five o'clock. "

Reluctantly the boy moved off. The officer again took up his stand in frontof the house and quiet was restored to the street. 

Meantime, in the great house consternation reigned for a time. 

The nurse maid had reached the door in time to hear the shot and see thechildren fall. She barely escaped the bullet herself. She was an oldservant of the family and therefore more frightened for her charge thanfor herself. She had the presence of mind to drag both children inside thehouse and shut and lock the door immediately, before the seething mob couldbreak in. 

The mistress of the house fell in a dead faint as they carried her littlelaughing daughter up the stairs and a man and a maid followed with theboy who was unconscious. The servants rushed hither and thither; thehousekeeper had the coolness to telephone the bank president what hadhappened, and to send for the family physician. No one knew yet just whowas hurt or how much. Mikky had been brought inside because he blocked thedoorway, and there was need for instantly shutting the door. If it had beeneasier to shove him out the nurse maid would probably have done that. Butonce inside common humanity bade them look after the unconscious boy'sneeds, and besides, no one knew as yet just exactly what part Mikky hadplayed in the small tragedy of the morning. 

"Where shall we take him?" said the man to the maid as they reached thesecond floor with their unconscious burden. 

"Not here, Thomas. Here's no place for him. He's as dirty as a pig. I can'tthink what come over Morton to pull him inside, anyway. His own could havetended to him. Besides, such is better dead!"

They hurried on past the luxurious rooms belonging to the lady of themansion; up the next flight of stairs, and Norah paused by the bath-roomdoor where the full light of the hall windows fell upon the grimy littlefigure of the child they carried. 

Norah the maid uttered an exclamation. 

"He's not fit fer any place in this house. Look at his cloes. They'll haveto be cut off'n him, and he needs to go in the bath-tub before he can belaid anywheres. Let's put him in the bath-room, and do you go an' callMorton. She got him in here and she'll have to bathe him. And bring me apair of scissors. I'll mebbe have to cut the cloes off'n him, they're sofilthy. Ach! The little beast!"

Thomas, glad to be rid of his burden, dropped the boy on the bath-roomfloor and made off to call Morton. 

Norah, with little knowledge and less care, took no thought for the lifeof her patient. She was intent on making him fit to put between her cleansheets. She found the tattered garments none too tenacious in their holdto the little, half-naked body. One or two buttons and a string were theironly attachments. Norah pulled them off with gingerly fingers, and holdingthem at arm's length took them to the bath-room window whence she pitchedthem down into the paved court below, that led to the kitchen regions. Thomas could burn them, or put them on the ash pile by and by. She wascertain they would never go on again, and wondered how they had been madeto hold together this last time. 

Morton had not come yet, but Norah discovering a pool of blood under thelittle bare shoulder, lifted him quickly into the great white bath-tub andturned on the warm water. There was no use wasting time, and getting bloodon white tiles that she would have to scrub. She was not unkind but shehated dirt, and partly supporting the child with one arm she appliedherself to scrubbing him as vigorously as possible with the other hand. The shock of the water, not being very warm at first, brought returningconsciousness to the boy for a moment, in one long shuddering sigh. Theeyelashes trembled for an instant on the white cheeks, and his eyes opened;gazed dazedly, then wildly, on the strange surroundings, the water, and thevigorous Irish woman who had him in her power. He threw his arms up witha struggling motion, gasped as if with sudden pain and lost consciousnessagain, relaxing once more into the strong red arm that held him. It wasjust at this critical moment that Morton entered the bath-room. 

Morton was a trim, apple-cheeked Scotch woman of about thirty years, withneat yellow-brown hair coiled on the top of her head, a cheerful tilt toher freckled nose, and eyes so blue that in company with her rosy cheeksone thought at once of a flag. Heather and integrity exhaled from her verybeing, flamed from her cheeks, spoke from her loyal, stubborn chin, andlooked from her trustworthy eyes. She had been with the bank president'sbaby ever since the little star-eyed creature came into the world. 

"Och! look ye at the poor wee'un!" she exclaimed. "Ye're hurtin' him, Norah! Ye shouldn't have bathed him the noo! Ye should've waited thedocther's comin'. Ye'll mebbe kin kill him. "

"Ach! Get out with yer soft talk!" said Norah, scrubbing the morevigorously. "Did yez suppose I'll be afther havin' all this filth in thenice clean sheets? Get ye to work an' he'p me. Do ye hold 'im while Ischrub!"

She shifted the boy into the gentler arm's of the nurse, and went tosplashing all the harder. Then suddenly, before the nurse could protest, she had dashed a lot of foamy suds on the golden head and was scrubbingthat with all her might. 

"Och, Norah!" cried the nurse in alarm. "You shouldn't a done that! Ye'llsurely kill the bairn. Look at his poor wee shoulder a bleedin', and hislittle face so white an' still. Have ye no mercy at all, Norah? Rinse offthat suds at once, an' dry him softly. What'll the docther be sayin' to yefer all this I can't think. There, my poor bairnie, " she crooned to thechild, softly drawing him closer as though he were conscious, --

"There, there my bairnie, it'll soon be over. It'll be all right in just aminute, poor wee b'y! Poor wee b'y! There! There--"

But Norah did her perfect work, and made the little lean body glisteningwhite as polished marble, while the heavy hair hung limp like pale goldensilk. 

The two women carried him to a bed in a large room at the back of thehouse, not far from the nursery, and laid him on a blanket, with hisshoulder stanched with soft linen rags. Morton was softly drying his hairand crooning to the child--although he was still unconscious--beggingNorah to put the blanket over him lest he catch cold; and Norah was stillvigorously drying his feet unmindful of Morton's pleading, when the doctorentered with a trained nurse. The boy lay white and still upon the blanketas the two women, startled, drew back from their task. The body, clean now, and beautifully shaped, might have been marble except for the delicate blueveins in wrists and temples. In spite of signs of privation and lack ofnutrition there was about the boy a showing of strength in well developedmuscles, and it went to the heart to see him lying helpless so, with hisdrenched gold hair and his closed eyes. The white limbs did not quiver, thelifeless fingers drooped limply, the white chest did not stir with any signof breath, and yet the tender lips that curved in a cupid's bow, were notaltogether gone white. 

"What a beautiful child!" exclaimed the nurse involuntarily as she camenear the bed. "He looks like a young god!"

"He's far more likely to be a young devil, " said the doctor grimly, leaningover him with practised eyes, and laying a listening ear to the quietbreast. Then, he started back. 

"He's cold as ice! What have you been doing to him? It wasn't a case ofdrowning, was it? You haven't been giving him a bath at such a time asthis, have you? Did you want to kill the kid outright?"

"Oauch, the poor wee b'y!" sobbed Morton under her breath, her blue eyesdrenched with tears that made them like blue lakes. "He's like to my ownwee b'y that I lost when he was a baby, " she explained in apology to thetrained nurse who was not, however, regarding her in the least. 

Norah had vanished frightened to consult with Thomas. It was Morton whobrought the things the doctor called for, and showed the nurse where to puther belongings; and after everything was done and the boy made comfortableand brought back to consciousness, it was she who stood at the foot of thebed and smiled upon him first in this new world to which he opened hiseyes. 

His eyes were blue, heavenly blue and dark, but they were great with abrave fear as he glanced about on the strange faces. He looked like a wildbird, caught in a kindly hand, --a bird whose instincts held him stillbecause he saw no way of flight, but whose heart was beating frightfullyagainst his captor's fingers. He looked from side to side of the room, andmade a motion to rise from the pillow. It was a wild, furtive motion, as ofone who has often been obliged to fly for safety, yet still has unlimitedcourage. There was also in his glance the gentle harmlessness and appeal ofthe winged thing that has been caught. 

"Well, youngster, you had a pretty close shave, " said the doctor jovially, "but you'll pull through all right! You feel comfortable now?"

The nurse was professionally quiet. 

"Poor wee b'y!" murmured Morton, her eyes drenched again. 

The boy looked from one to another doubtfully. Suddenly remembrance dawnedupon him and comprehension entered his glance. He looked about the room andtoward the door. There was question in his eyes that turned on the doctorbut his lips formed no words. He looked at Morton, and knew her for thenurse of his baby. Suddenly he smiled, and that smile seemed to light upthe whole room, and filled the heart of Morton with joy unspeakable. Itseemed to her it was the smile of her own lost baby come back to shine uponher. The tears welled, up and the blue lakes ran over. The boy's face wasmost lovely when he smiled. 

"Where is--de little kid?" It was Morton whose face he searched anxiouslyas he framed the eager question, and the woman's intuition taught her howto answer. 

"She's safe in her own wee crib takin' her morning nap. She's just newover, " answered the woman reassuringly. 

Still the eyes were not satisfied. 

"Did she"--he began slowly--"get--hurted?"

"No, my bairnie, she's all safe and sound as ever. It was your own selfthat saved her life. "

The boy's face lit up and he turned from one to another contentedly. Hissmile said: "Then I'm glad. " But not a word spoke his shy lips. 

"You're a hero, kid!" said the doctor huskily. But the boy knew littleabout heroes and did not comprehend. 

The nurse by this time had donned her uniform and rattled up starchily totake her place at the bedside, and Morton and the doctor went away, thedoctor to step once more into the lady's room below to see if she wasfeeling quite herself again after her faint. 

The nurse leaned over the boy with a glass and spoon. He looked at itcuriously, unknowingly. It was a situation entirely outside his experience. 

"Why don't you take your medicine?" asked the nurse. 

The boy looked at the spoon again as it approached his lips and opened themto speak. 

"Is--"

In went the medicine and the boy nearly choked, but he understood andsmiled. 

"A hospital?" he finished. 

The nurse laughed. 

"No, it's only a house. They brought you in, you know, when you were hurtout on the steps. You saved the little girl's life. Didn't you know it?"she said kindly, her heart won by his smile. 

A beautiful look rewarded her. 

"Is de little kid--in this house?" he asked slowly, wonderingly. It was asif he had asked if he were in heaven, there was so much awe in his tone. 

"Oh, yes, she's here, " answered the nurse lightly. "Perhaps they'll bringher in to see you sometime. Her father's very grateful. He thinks it showedwonderful courage in you to risk your life for her sake. "

But Mikky comprehended nothing about gratitude. He only took in the factthat the beautiful baby was in the house and might come there to see him. He settled to sleep quite happily with an occasional glad wistful glancetoward the door, as the long lashes sank on the white cheeks, for the firstsleep the boy had ever taken in a clean, white, soft bed. The prim nurse, softened for once from her precise attention to duties, stood and lookedupon the lovely face of the sleeping child, wondered what his life hadbeen, and how the future would be for him. She half pitied him that theball had not gone nearer to the vital spot and taken him to heaven ere hemissed the way, so angel-like his face appeared in the soft light of thesick room, with the shining gold hair fluffed back upon the pillow now, like a halo. 

CHAPTER II

Little Starr Endicott, sleeping in her costly lace-draped crib on her downyembroidered pillow, knew nothing of the sin and hate and murder that rolledin a great wave on the streets outside, and had almost touched her ownlittle life and blotted it out. She knew not that three notable familieswhose names were interwoven in her own, and whose blood flowed in her tinyveins represented the great hated class of the Rich, and that those uponwhom they had climbed to this height looked upon them as an evil to bedestroyed; nor did she know that she, being the last of the race, and inher name representing them all, was hated most of all. 

Starr Delevan Endicott! It was graven upon her tiny pins and locket, uponthe circlet of gold that jewelled her finger, upon her brushes and combs;it was broidered upon her dainty garments, and coverlets and cushions, andcrooned to her by the adoring Scotch nurse who came of a line that knew andloved an aristocracy. The pride of the house of Starr, the wealth of thehouse of Delevan, the glory of the house of Endicott, were they not allhers, this one beautiful baby who lay in her arms to tend and to love. Somused Morton as she hummed:

 "O hush thee my babie, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a ladie, both gentle and bright--"

And what cared Morton that the mother in this case was neither gentle norbright, but only beautiful and selfish? It did but make the child thedearer that she had her love to herself. 

And so the little Starr lay sleeping in her crib, and the boy, herpreserver, from nobody knew where, and of nobody knew what name or fame, lay sleeping also. And presently Delevan Endicott himself came to look atthem both. 

He came from the swirl of the sinful turbulent world outside, and from hisfretting, petted wife's bedside. She had been fretting at him for allowinga bank in which he happened to be president to do anything which shouldcause such a disturbance outside her home, when he knew she was so nervous. Not one word about the little step that had stood for an instant betweenher baby and eternity. Her husband reminded her gently how near their babyhad come to death, and how she should rejoice that she was safe, but herreply had been a rush of tears, and "Oh, yes, you always think of the baby, never of me, your wife!"

With a sigh the man had turned from his fruitless effort to calm hertroubled mind and gone to his little daughter. He had hoped that his wifewould go with him, but he saw the hopelessness of that idea. 

The little girl lay with one plump white arm thrown over her head, thecurling baby fingers just touching the rosy cheek, flushed with sleep. She looked like a rosebud herself, so beautiful among the rose and laceydraperies of her couch. Her dark curls, so fine and soft and wonderful, with their hidden purple shadows, and the long dark curling lashes, tomatch the finely pencilled brows, brought out each delicate feature of thelovely little face. The father, as he looked down upon her, wondered how itcould have been in the heart of any creature, no matter how wicked, to putout this vivid little life. His little Starr, his one treasure!

The man that had tried to do it, could he have intended it really, or wasit only a random shot? The testimony of those who saw judged it intention. The father's quickened heart-beats told him it was, and he felt that thethrust had gone deep. How they had meant to hurt him! How they must havehated him to have wished to hurt him so! How they would have hurt his lifeirretrievably if the shot had done its work. If that other little atom ofhuman life had not intervened!

Where was the boy who had saved his child? He must go and see him at once. The gratitude of a lifetime should be his. 

Morton divined his thought, as he stepped from the sacred crib softly afterbending low to sweep his lips over the rosy velvet of little Starr's cheek. With silent tread she followed her master to the door:

"The poor wee b'y's in the far room yon, " she said in a soft whisper, andher tone implied that his duty lay next in that direction. The banker hadoften noticed this gentle suggestion in the nurse's voice, it minded himof something in his childhood and he invariably obeyed it. He might haveresented it if it had been less humble, less trustfully certain thatof course that was the thing that he meant to do next. He followed herdirection now without a word. 

The boy had just fallen asleep when he entered, and lay as sweetlybeautiful as the little vivid beauty he had left in the other room. The manof the world paused and instinctively exclaimed in wonder. He had been toldthat it was a little gamin who had saved his daughter from the assassin'sbullet, but the features of this child were as delicately chiseled, hisform as finely modeled, his hair as soft and fine as any scion of a noblehouse might boast. He, like the nurse, had the feeling that a young god laybefore him. It was so that Mikky always had impressed a stranger even whenhis face was dirty and his feet were bare. 

The man stood with bowed head and looked upon the boy to whom he felt heowed a debt which he could never repay. 

He recognized the child as a representative of that great unwashed throngof humanity who were his natural enemies, because by their oppression andby stepping upon their rights when it suited his convenience, he had risento where he now stood, and was able to maintain his position. He had nospecial feeling for them, any of them, more than if they had been a pack ofwolves whose fangs he must keep clear of, and whose hides he must get assoon as convenient; but this boy was different! This spirit-child with theform of Apollo, the beauty of Adonis, and the courage of a hero! Could hehave come from the hotbeds of sin and corruption? It could not be! Surethere must be some mistake. He must be of good birth. Enquiry must be made. Had anyone asked the child's name and where he lived?

Then, as if in answer to his thought, the dark blue eyes suddenly opened. He found them looking at him, and started as he realized it, as if apicture on which he gazed had suddenly turned out to be alive. And yet, for the instant, he could not summon words, but stood meeting that steadysearching gaze of the child, penetrating, questioning, as if the eyes wouldsee and understand the very foundation principles on which the man's liferested. The man felt it, and had the sensation of hastily looking at hisown motives in the light of this child's look. Would his life bear thatburning appealing glance?

Then, unexpectedly the child's face lit up with his wonderful smile. He haddecided to trust the man. 

Never before in all his proud and varied experience had Delevan Endicottencountered a challenge like that. It beat through him like a mighty armyand took his heart by storm, it flashed into his eyes and dazzled him. Itwas the challenge of childhood to the fatherhood of the man. With a strangenew impulse the man accepted it, and struggling to find words, could onlyanswer with a smile. 

A good deal passed between them before any words were spoken at all, a gooddeal that the boy never forgot, and that the man liked to turn back to inhis moments of self-reproach, for somehow that boy's eyes called forth thebest that was in him, and made him ashamed of other things. 

"Boy, who is your father?" at last asked the man huskily. He almost dreadedto find another father owning a noble boy like this--and such a father ashe would be if it were true that he was only a street gamin. 

The boy still smiled, but a wistfulness came into his eyes. He slowly shookhis head. 

"Dead, is he?" asked the man more as if thinking aloud. But the boy shookhis head again. 

"No, no father, " he answered simply. 

"Oh, " said the man, and a lump gathered in his throat. "Your mother?"

"No mother, never!" came the solemn answer. It seemed that he scarcely feltthat either of these were deep lacks in his assets. Very likely fathers andmothers were not on the average desirable kindred in the neighborhood fromwhich he came. The man reflected and tried again. 

"Who are your folks? They'll be worried about you. We ought to send themword you're doing well?"

The boy looked amazed, then a laugh rippled out. 

"No folks, " he gurgled, "on'y jest de kids. "

"Your brothers and sisters?" asked Endicott puzzled. 

"None o' dem, " said Mikky. "Buck an' me're pards. We fights fer de otherkids. "

"Don't you know it's wrong to fight?"

Mikky stared. 

Endicott tried to think of something to add to his little moral homily, butsomehow could not. 

"It's very wrong to fight, " he reiterated lamely. 

The boy's cherub mouth settled into firm lines. 

"It's wronger not to, when de little kids is gettin' hurt, an' de bigfellers what ought ter work is stole away they bread, an' they's hungry. "

It was an entirely new proposition. It was the challenge of the pooragainst the rich, of the weak against the strong, and from the lips of amere babe. The man wondered and answered not. 

"I'd fight fer your little kid!" declared the young logician. He seemed toknow by instinct that this was the father of his baby. 

Ah, now he had touched the responsive chord. The father's face lit up. Heunderstood. Yes, it was right to fight for his baby girl, his little Starr, his one treasure, and this boy had done it, given his life freely. Was thatlike fighting for those other unloved, uncared-for, hungry darlings? Werethey then dear children, too, of somebody, of God, if nobody else? Theboy's eyes were telling him plainly in one long deep look, that all theworld of little children at least was kin, and the grateful heart of thefather felt that in mere decency of gratitude he must acknowledge so much. Poor little hungry babies. What if his darling were hungry! A suddenlonging seized his soul to give them bread at once to eat. But at least hewould shower his gratitude upon this one stray defender of their rights. 

He struggled to find words to let the child know of this feeling but onlythe tears gathering quickly in his eyes spoke for him. 

"Yes, yes, my boy! You did fight for my little girl. I know, I'll neverforget it of you as long as I live. You saved her life, and that's wortheverything to me. Everything, do you understand?"

At last the words rushed forth, but his voice was husky, and those who knewhim would have declared him more moved than they had ever seen him. 

The boy understood. A slender brown hand stole out from the white coverletand touched his. Its outline, long and supple and graceful, spoke ofpatrician origin. It was hard for the man of wealth and pride to realizethat it was the hand of the child of the common people, the people who werehis enemies. 

"Is there anything you would like to have done for you, boy?" he asked atlast because the depth of emotion was more than he could bear. 

The boy looked troubled. 

"I was thinkin', ef Buck an' them could see me, they'd know 'twas allright. I'd like 'em fine to know how 'tis in here. "

"You want me to bring them up to see you?"

Mikky nodded. 

"Where can I find them, do you think?"

"Buck, he won't go fur, till he knows what's comed o' me, " said the boywith shining confidence in his friend. "He'd know I'd do that fur him. "

Then it seemed there was such a thing as honor and loyalty among the lowerranks of men--at least among the boys. The man of the world was learning agreat many things. Meekly he descended the two flights of stairs and wentout to his own front doorsteps. 

There were no crowds any more. The police were still on duty, but curiouspassersby dared not linger long. The workmen had finished the windows andgone. The man felt little hope of finding the boys, but somehow he had astrange desire to do so. He wanted to see that face light up once more. Also, he had a curious desire to see these youngsters from the street whocould provoke such loving anxiety from the hero upstairs. 

Mikky was right, Buck would not go far away until he knew how it was withhis comrade. He had indeed moved off at the officer's word when the doctorpromised to bring him word later, but in his heart he did not intend to leta soul pass in or out of that house all day that he did not see, and so heset his young pickets here and there about the block, each with his bunchof papers, and arranged a judicious change occasionally, to avoid troublewith the officers. 

Buck was standing across the street on the corner by the church steps, making a lively show of business now and then and keeping one eye on thehouse that had swallowed up his partner. He was not slow to perceive thathe was being summoned by a man upon the steps, and ran eagerly up with hispapers, expecting to receive his coin, and maybe a glimpse inside the door. 

"All about der shootin' of der bank millionaire's baby!" he yelled in hismost finished voice of trade, and the father, thinking of what might havebeen, felt a pang of horror at the careless words from the gruff littlevoice. 

"Do you know a boy named Buck?" he questioned as he deliberately paid forthe paper that was held up to him, and searched the unpromising little facebefore him. Then marvelled at the sullen, sly change upon the dirty face. 

The black brows drew down forbodingly, the dark eyes reminded Mm of a cagedlion ready to spring if an opportunity offered. The child had become a manwith a criminal's face. There was something frightful about the defiantlook with which the boy drew himself up. 

"What if I does?"

"Only that there's a boy in here, " motioning toward the door, "would likevery much to see him for a few minutes. If you know where he is, I wishyou'd tell him. "

Then there came a change more marvelous than before. It was as if thedivine in the soul had suddenly been revealed through a rift in the sinfulhumanity. The whole defiant face became eager, the black eyes danced withquestion, the brows settled into straight pleasant lines, and the mouthsweetened as with pleasant thoughts. 

"Is't Mikky?" He asked in earnest voice. "Kin we get in? I'll call de kids. He'll want 'em. He allus wants der kids. " He placed his fingers in hismouth, stretching it into a curious shape, and there issued forth a shriekthat might have come from the mouth of an exulting fiend, so long andshrill and sharp it was. The man on the steps, his nerves already wroughtto the snapping point, started angrily. Then suddenly around the corner ata swift trot emerged three ragged youngsters who came at their leader'scommand swiftly and eagerly. 

"Mikky wants us!" explained Buck. "Now youse foller me, 'n don't you saynothin' less I tell you. "

They fell in line, behind the bank president, and followed awed withinthe portal that unlocked a palace more wonderful than Aladdin's to theirastonished gaze. 

Up the stairs they slunk, single file, the bare feet and the illy-shodalike going silently and sleuth-like over the polished stairs. They skulkedpast open doors with frightened defiant glances, the defiance of the verypoor for the very rich, the defiance that is born and bred in the soul froma face to face existence with hunger and cold and need of every kind. Theywere defiant but they took it all in, and for many a day gave detailshighly embellished of the palace where Mikky lay. It seemed to them thatheaven itself could show no grander sights. 

In a stricken row against the wall, with sudden consciousness of their owndelinquencies of attire, ragged caps in hands, grimy hands behind them, they stood and gazed upon their fallen hero-comrade. 

Clean, they had never perhaps seen his face before. The white robe that wasupon him seemed a robe of unearthly whiteness. It dazzled their gaze. Theshining of his newly-washed hair was a glory crown upon his head. They sawhim gathered into another world than any they knew. It could have seemed noworse to them if the far heaven above the narrow city streets had openedits grim clouds and received their comrade from their sight. They wereappalled. How could he ever be theirs again? How could it all have happenedin the few short hours since Mikky flashed past them and fell a martyr tohis kindly heart and saved the wicked rich man his child? The brows of Buckdrew together in his densest frown. He felt that Mikky, their Mikky washaving some terrible change come upon him. 

Then Mikky turned and smiled upon them all, and in his dear familiar voiceshouted, "Say, kids, ain't this grand? Say, I jes' wish you was all in it!Ef you, Buck, an' the kids was here in this yer grand bed I'd be havin' thetime o' me life!"

That turned the tide. Buck swallowed hard and smiled his darker smile, and the rest grinned sheepishly Grandeur and riches had not spoiled theirprince. He was theirs still and he had wanted them. He had sent for them. They gained courage to look around on the spotlessly clean room, on thenurse in her crackling dignity; on the dish of oranges which she promptlyhanded to them and of which each in awe partook a golden sphere; on thehandful of bright flowers that Morton had brought but a few minutes beforeand placed on a little stand by the bed; on the pictures that hung upon thewalls, the like of which they had never seen, before, and then back to thewhite white bed that held their companion. They could not get used to thewhiteness and the cleanness of his clean, clean face and hands, and brightgold hair. It burned like a flame against the pillow, and Mikky's blue eyesseemed darker and deeper than ever before. To Buck they had given theirobedient following, and looked to him for protection, but after all he wasone like themselves, only a little more fearless. To Mikky they all gave akind of far-seeing adoration. He was fearless and brave like Buck, but hewas something more. In their superstitious fear and ignorance he seemed tothem almost supernatural. 

They skulked, silently down the stairs like frightened rabbits when theinterview was over, each clutching his precious orange, and not until thegreat doors had closed upon them, did they utter a word. They had said verylittle. Mikky had done all the talking. 

When they had filed down the street behind their leader, and rounded thecorner out of sight of the house, Buck gathered them into a little knot andsaid solemnly: "Kids. I bet cher Mik don't be comin' out o' this no more. Didn't you take notice how he looked jes' like the angel top o' themonnemunt down to the cemtary?"

The little group took on a solemnity that was deep and real. 

"Annyhow, he wanted us!" spoke up a curly-headed boy with old eyes and athin face. He was one whom Mikky had been won't to defend. He bore a humpupon his ragged back. 

"Aw! he's all right fer us, is Mik, " said Buck, "but he's different nor us. Old Aunt Sal she said one day he were named fer a 'n'angel, an' like as nothe'll go back where he b'longs some day, but he won't never fergit us. He ain't like rich folks what don't care. He's our pard allus. Come on, fellers. "

Down the back alley went the solemn little procession, single file, tillthey reached the rear of the Endicott house, where they stood silent asbefore a shrine, till at a signal from their leader, each grimy right handwas raised, and gravely each ragged cap was taken off and held high in theair toward the upper window, where they knew their hero-comrade lay. Thenthey turned and marched silently away. 

They were all in place before the door whenever the doctor came thereafter, and always went around by the way of the alley afterward for theirceremonial good night, sometimes standing solemnly beneath the cold starswhile the shrill wind blew through their thin garments, but always as longas the doctor brought them word, or as long as the light burned in theupper window, they felt their comrade had not gone yet. 

CHAPTER III

Heaven opened for Mikky on the day when Morton, with the doctor'spermission, brought Baby Starr to see him. 

The baby, in her nurse's arms, gazed down upon her rescuer with theunprejudiced eyes of childhood. Mikky's smile flashed upon her andforthwith she answered with a joyous laugh of glee. The beautiful boypleased her ladyship. She reached out her roseleaf hands to greet him. 

The nurse held her down to the bed:

"Kiss the wee b'y, that's a good baby. Kiss the wee b'y. He took care ofbaby and saved her life when the bad man tried to hurt her. Kiss the weeb'y and say 'I thank you, '" commanded Morton. 

The saving of her life meant nothing to little Starr, but she obedientlymurmured 'I'ee tank oo!' as the nurse had drilled her to do before shebrought her, and then laid her moist pink lips on cheeks, forehead, eyesand mouth in turn, and Mikky, in ecstasy, lay trembling with the pleasureof it. No one had ever kissed him before. Kissing was not in vogue in thestreet where he existed. 

Thereafter, every day until he was convalescent, Starr came to visit him. 

By degrees he grew accustomed to her gay presence enough to talk with herfreely as child with child. Her words were few and her tongue as yet quiteunacquainted with the language of this world; but perhaps that was all thebetter, for their conversations were more of the spirit than of the tongue, Mikky's language, of circumstance, being quite unlike that of MadisonAvenue. 

Starr brought her wonderful electric toys and dolls, and Mikky looked atthem with wonder, yet always with a kind of rare indifference, because thechild herself was to him the wonder of all wonders, an angel spirit stoopedto earth. And every day, when the nurse carried her small charge away afterher frolic with the boy, she would always lift her up to the bed and say:

"Now kiss the wee b'y, Baby Starr, and thank him again fer savin' yerlife. "

And Starr would lay her soft sweet mouth on hie as tenderly and gravely asif she understood the full import of her obligation. At such times Mikkywould watch her bright face as it came close to his, and when her lipstouched his he would close his eyes as if to shut out all things else fromthis sacred ceremony. After Starr and Morton were gone the nurse was wontto look furtively toward the bed and note the still, lovely face of the boywhose eyes were closed as if to hold the vision and memory the longer. Atsuch times her heart would draw her strangely from her wonted formality andshe would touch the boy with a tenderness that was not natural to her. 

There were other times when Mr. Endicott would come and talk briefly withthe boy, just to see his eyes light and his face glow with that wonderfulsmile, and to think what it would be if the boy were his own. Always Mikkyenjoyed these little talks, and when his visitor was gone he would thinkwith satisfaction that this was just the right kind of a father for hislittle lovely Starr. He was glad the Baby Starr had a father. He had oftenwondered what it would be like to have a father, and now he thought he sawwhat the height of desire in a father might be. Not that he felt a greatneed for himself in the way of fathers. He had taken care of himself sincehe could remember and felt quite grown up and fathers usually drank; but ababy like that needed a father, and he liked Starr's father. 

But the dearest thing now in life for him was little Starr's kisses. 

To the father, drawn first by gratitude to the boy who had saved hischild's life, and afterwards by the boy's own irresistible smile, thesefrequent visits had become a pleasure. There had been a little boy beforeStarr came to their home, but he had only lived a few weeks. The memory ofthat golden, fuzzy head, the little appealing fingers, the great blue eyesof his son still lingered bitterly in the father's heart. When he firstlooked upon this waif the fancy seized him that, perhaps his own boy wouldhave been like this had he lived, and a strange and unexpected tendernessentered his heart for Mikky. He kept going to the little invalid's roomnight after night, pleasing himself with the thought that the boy was hisown. 

So strong a hold did this fancy take upon the man's heart that he actuallybegan to consider the feasibility of adopting the child and bringing himup as his own--this, after he had by the aid of detectives, thoroughlysearched out all that was known of him and found that no one owned Mikkynor seemed to care what became of him except Buck and his small following. And all the time the child, well fed, well cared for, happier than he hadever dreamed of being in all his little hard life, rapidly convalesced. 

Endicott came home one afternoon to find Mikky down in the reception roomdressed in black velvet and rare old lace, with his glorious sheaf ofgolden hair which had grown during his illness tortured into ringlets, andan adoring group of ladies gathered about him, as he stood with troubled, almost haughty mien, and gravely regarded their maudlin sentimentalities. 

Mrs. Endicott had paid no attention to the boy heretofore, and her suddeninterest in him came from a chance view of him as he sat up in a big chairfor the first time, playing a game with little Starr. His big eyes andbeautiful hair attracted her at once, and she lost no time in dressing himup like a doll and making him a show at one of her receptions. 

When her husband remonstrated with her, declaring that such treatment wouldruin the spirit of any real boy, and spoil him for life, she shrugged hershoulders indifferently, and answered:

"Well, what if it does? He's nothing but a foundling. He ought to be gladwe are willing to dress him up prettily and play with him for a while. "

"And what would you do with him after you were done using him for a toy?Cast him aside?"

"Well, why not?" with another shrug of her handsome shoulders. "Or, perhapswe might teach him to be a butler or footman if you want to be benevolent. He would be charming in a dark blue uniform!"

The woman raised her delicate eyebrows, humming a light tune, and herhusband turned from her in despair. Was it nothing at all to her that thischild had saved the life of her baby?

That settled the question of adoption. His wife would never be the oneto bring up the boy into anything like manhood. It was different with agirl--she must of necessity be frivolous, he supposed. 

The next morning an old college friend came into his office, a plainman with a pleasant face, who had not gone from college days to a bankpresidency. He was only a plain teacher in a little struggling college inFlorida, and he came soliciting aid for the college. 

Endicott turned from puzzling over the question of Mikky, to greet his oldfriend whom he had not seen for twenty years. He was glad to see him. Hehad always liked him. He looked him over critically, however, with hissuccessful-business-man-of-New-York point of view. He noticed the plaincheap business suit, worn shiny in places, the shoes well polished butbeginning to break at the side, the plentiful sprinkling of gray hairs, andthen hie eyes travelled to the kind, worn face of his friend. In spite ofhimself he could not but feel that the man was happier than himself. 

He asked many questions, and found a keen pleasure in hearing all about thelittle family of the other, and their happy united efforts to laugh offpoverty and have a good time anyway. Then the visitor told of the college, its struggles, its great needs and small funds, how its orange crop, whichwas a large part of its regular income, had failed that year on account ofthe frost, and they were in actual need of funds to carry on the work ofthe immediate school year. Endicott found his heart touched, though he wasnot as a rule a large giver to anything. 

"I'd be glad to help you Harkness, " he said at last, "but I've got aprivate benevolence on my hands just now that is going to take a good dealof money, I'm afraid. You see we've narrowly escaped a tragedy at ourhouse--" and he launched into the story of the shooting, and his ownindebtedness to Mikky. 

"I see, " said the Professor, "you feel that you owe it to that lad to puthim in the way of a better life, seeing that he freely gave his life foryour child's. "

"Exactly!" said Endicott, "and I'd like to adopt him and bring him up as myown, but it doesn't seem feasible. I don't think my wife would feel justas I do about it, and I'm not sure I'd be doing the best after all for theboy. To be taken from one extreme to another might ruin him. "

"Well, Endicott, why don't you combine your debt to the child withbenevolence and send him down to us for a few years to educate. "

Endicott sat up interestedly. 

"Could I do that; Would they take so young a child? He can't be overseven. "

"Yes, we would take him, I think. He'd be well cared for; and his tuitionin the prep department would help the institution along. Every littlehelps, you know. "

Endicott suddenly saw before him the solution of his difficulties. Heentered eagerly into the matter, talking over rates, plans and so on. Anhour later it was all settled. Mikky was to take a full course with hisexpenses all prepaid, and a goodly sum placed in the bank for his clothingand spending money. He was to have the best room the school afforded, atthe highest price, and was to take music and art and everything elsethat was offered, for Endicott meant to do the handsome thing by theinstitution. The failure of the bank of which he was president had in nowise affected his own private fortune. 

"If the boy doesn't seem to develop an interest in some of these branches, put some deserving one in his place, and put him at something else, " hesaid. "I want him to have his try at everything, develop the best that isin him. So we'll pay for everything you've got there, and that willhelp out some other poor boy perhaps, for, of course one boy can't doeverything. I'll arrange it with my lawyer that the payments shall be maderegularly for the next twelve years, so that if anything happens to me, orif this boy runs away or doesn't turn out worthy, you will keep on gettingthe money just the same, and some one else can come in on it. "

Professor Harkness went away from the office with a smile on his face andin his pocket three letters of introduction to wealthy benevolent businessmen of New York. Mikky was to go South with him the middle of the nextweek. 

Endicott went home that afternoon with relief of mind, but he found in hisheart a most surprising reluctance to part with the beautiful boy. 

When the banker told Mikky that he was going to send him to "college, " andexplained to him that an education would enable him to become a good manand perhaps a great one, the boy's face was very grave. Mikky had neverfelt the need of an education, and the thought of going away from New Yorkgave him a sensation as if the earth were tottering under his feet. Heshook his head doubtfully. 

"Kin I take Buck an' de kids?" he asked after a thoughtful pause, and witha lifting of the cloud in his eyes. 

"No, " said Endicott. "It costs a good deal to go away to school, and therewouldn't be anyone to send them. "

Mikky's eyes grew wide with something like indignation, and he shook hishead. 

"Nen I couldn't go, " he said decidedly. "I couldn't take nothin' great likethat and not give de kids any. We'll stick together. I'll stay wid de kids. They needs me. "

"But Mikky--" the man looked into the large determined eyes and settleddown for combat--"you don't understand, boy. It would be impossible forthem to go. I couldn't send them all, but I _can_ send you, and I'm goingto, because you risked your life to save little Starr. "

"That wasn't nothin' t'all!" declared Mikky with fine scorn. 

"It was everything to me, " said the man, "and I want to do this for you. And boy, it's your duty to take this. It's everybody's duty to take theopportunities for advancement that come to them. "

Mikky looked at him thoughtfully. He did not understand the large words, and duty meant to him a fine sense of loyalty to those who had been loyalto him. 

"I got to stay wid de kids, " he said. "Dey needs me. "

With an exasperated feeling that it was useless to argue against thiscalmly stated fact, Endicott began again gently:

"But Mikky, you can help them a lot more by going to college than bystaying at home. "

The boy's eyes looked unconvinced but he waited for reasons. 

"If you get to be an educated man you will be able to earn money and helpthem. You can lift them up to better things; build good houses for them tolive in; give them work to do that will pay good wages, and help them to begood men. "

"Are you educated?"

Thinking he was making progress Endicott nodded eagerly. 

"Is that wot you does fer folks?" The bright eyes searched his faceeagerly, keenly, doubtfully. 

The color flooded the bank-president's cheeks and forehead uncomfortably. 

"Well, --I might--" he answered. "Yes, I might do a great deal for people, Isuppose. I don't know as I do much, but I could if I had been interested inthem. "

He paused. He realized that the argument was weakened. Mikky studied hisface. 

"But dey needs me now, de kids does, " he said gravely, "Jimmie, he don'thave no supper most nights less'n I share; and Bobs is so little he can'tfight dem alley kids; n' sometimes I gets a flower off'n the florist's backdoor fer little sick Jane. Her's got a crutch, and can't walk much anyhow;and cold nights me an' Buck we sleeps close. We got a box hid away where wesleeps close an' keeps warm. "

The moisture gathered in the eyes of the banker as he listened to theinnocent story. It touched his heart as nothing ever had before. Heresolved that after this his education and wealth should at least helpthese little slum friends of Mikky to an occasional meal, or a flower, or awarm bed. 

"Suppose you get Buck to take your place with the kids while you go toschool and get an education and learn how to help them better. "

Mikky's golden head negatived this slowly. 

"Buck, he's got all he kin do to git grub fer hisse'f an" his sister Jane. His father is bad, and kicks Jane, and don't get her nothin' to eat. Buckhe has to see after Janie. "

"How would it be for you to pay Buck something so that he could take yourplace? I will give you some money that you may do as you like with, and youcan pay Buck as much as you think he needs every week. You can send it tohim in a letter. "

"Would it be as much as a quarter?" Mikky held his breath in wonder andsuspense. 

"Two quarters if you like. "

"Oh! could I do that?" The boy's face fairly shone, and he came and threwhis arms about Endicott's neck and laid his face against his. The manclasped him close and would fain have kept him there, for his well orderedheart was deeply stirred. 

Thus it was arranged. 

Buck was invited to an interview, but when the silver half dollar waslaid in his grimy palm, and he was made to understand that others were tofollow, and that he was to step up into Mikky's place in the community ofthe children while that luminary went to "college" to be educated, his facewore a heavy frown. He held out the silver sphere as if it burned him. What! Take money in exchange for Mikky's bright presence? Never!

It took a great deal of explanation to convince Buck that anything could bebetter "fer de kids" than Mikky, their own Mikky, now and forever. He wasquick, however, to see where the good lay for Mikky, and after a few plainstatements from Mr. Endicott there was no further demur on the part of theboy. Buck was willing to give up Mikky for Mikky's good but not for hisown. But it was a terrible sacrifice. The hard little face knotted itselfinto a fierce expression when he came to say good-bye. The long scrawnythroat worked convulsively, the hands gripped each other savagely. Itwas like handing Mikky over to another world than theirs, and though heconfidently promised to return to them so soon as the college should havecompleted the mysterious process of education, and to live with them as ofyore, sleeping in Buck's box alongside, and taking care of the others whenthe big alley kids grew troublesome, somehow an instinct taught them thathe would never return again. They had had him, and they would neverforget him, but he would grow into a being far above them. They lookedvindictively at the great rich man who had perpetrated this evil device ofa college life for their comrade. It was the old story of the helpless pooragainst the powerful rich. Even heart-beats counted not against such power. Mikky must go. 

They went to the great station on the morning when Mikky was to departand stood shivering and forlorn until the train was called. They listenedsullenly while Professor Harkness told them that if they wished to be fitto associate with their friend when he came out of college they must beginat once to improve all their opportunities. First of all they must go toschool, and study hard, and then their friend in college would be proud tocall them friends. They did not think it worth while to tell the kindly butignorant professor that they had no time for school, and no clothes to wearif they had the time or the inclination to go. Schools were everywhere, free, of course, but it did not touch them. They lived in dark places andcasual crannies, like weeds or vermin. No one cared whether they went toschool. No one suggested it. They would have as soon thought of enteringa great mansion and insisting on their right to live there as to presentthemselves at school. Why, they had to hustle for a mere existence. Theywere the water rats, the bad boys, the embryo criminals for the nextgeneration. The problem, with any who thought of them was how to get rid ofthem. But of course this man from another world did not understand. Theymerely looked at him dully and wished he would walk away and leave Mikky tothem while he stayed. His presence made it seem as if their companion werealready gone from them. 

It was hard, too, to see Mikky dressed like the fine boys on Fifth Avenue, handsome trousers and coat, and a great thick overcoat, a hat on hisshining crown of hair that had always been guiltless of cap, thickstockings and shining shoes on his feet that had always been bare andsoiled with the grime of the streets--gloves on his hands. This was a newMikky. "The kids" did not know him. In spite of their best efforts theycould not be natural. Great lumps arose in their throats, lumps that neverdared arise for hunger or cold or curses at home. 

They stood helpless before their own consciousness, and Mikky, divining thetrouble with that exquisite keenness of a spirit sent from heaven to makeearth brighter, conceived the bright idea of giving each of his comradessome article of his apparel as a remembrance. Mr. Endicott came uponthe scene just in time to keep Mikky from taking off his overcoat andenveloping Buck in its elegant folds. He was eagerly telling them that Bobsshould have his undercoat, Jimmie his hat; they must take his gloves toJane, and there was nothing left for Sam but his stockings and shoes, buthe gave them all willingly. He seemed to see no reason why he could nottravel hatless and coatless, bare of foot and hand, for had he not gonethat way through all the years of his existence? It was a small thing todo, for his friends whom he was leaving for a long time. 

The bright face clouded when he was told he could not give these thingsaway, that it would not be fair to the kind professor to ask him to carrywith him a boy not properly dressed. But he smiled again trustfully whenEndicott promised to take the whole group to a clothing house and fit themout. 

They bade Mikky good-bye, pressing their grimy noses against the bars ofthe station gate to watch their friend disappear from their bare littlelives. 

Endicott himself felt like crying as he came back from seeing the boyaboard the train. Somehow it went hard for him to feel, he should not meetthe bright smile that night when he went home. 

But it was not the way of "the kids" to cry when tragedy fell among them. They did not cry now--when he came back to them they regarded the bankerwith lowering brows as the originator of their bereavement. They had nofaith in the promised clothing. 

"Aw, what's he givin' us!" Buck had breathed under his breath. But to doBuck credit he had not wanted to take Mikky's coat from him. When theircomrade went from them into another walk in life he must go proudlyapparelled. 

Endicott led the huddled group away from the station, to a clothing house, and amused himself by fitting them out. The garments were not of as finematerial, nor elegant a cut as those he had pleased himself by purchasingfor Mikky's outfit, but they were warm and strong and wonderful to theireyes, and one by one the grimy urchins went into a little dressing room, presently emerging with awe upon their faces to stand before a tall mirrorsurveying themselves. 

Endicott presently bade the little company farewell and with a conscienceat ease with himself and all mankind left them. 

They issued from the clothing house with scared expressions and walkedsolemnly a few blocks. Then Buck called them to a halt before a large plateglass show-window. 

"Take a good look at yersel's, kids, " he ordered, "an' we'll go up to thePark an' shine around, an' see how ther swells feels, then we'll go down toSheeny's an' sell 'em. "

"Sell 'em! Can't we keep 'em?" pitifully demanded Bobs who had never feltwarm in winter in all his small life before. 

"You wouldn't hev 'em long, " sneered Buck. "That father o' yourn would hey'em pawned 'afore night; You better enjoy 'em a while, an' then git themoney. It's safer!"

The children with wisdom born of their unhappy circumstances recognizedthis truth. They surveyed themselves gravely in their fleeting grandeur andthen turned to walk up to the aristocratic part of town, a curious littleprocession. They finished by rounding the Madison Avenue block, marched upthe alley, and gave the salute with new hats toward the window where theirPrince and Leader used to be. He was no longer there, but his memory wasabout them, and the ceremony did their bursting little hearts good. Theirlove for Mikky was the noblest thing that had so far entered their lives. 

Jimmie suggested that they must let Jane see them before they disposedforever of their elegant garments, so Bobs, minus coat, hat, stockingsand shoes was sent to bid her to a secluded retreat at the far end of thealley. Bobs hurried back ahead of her little tapping crutch to don his fineattire once more before she arrived. 

Little Jane, sallow of face, unkempt of hair, tattered of clothing andshivering in the cold twilight stood and watched the procession of pride asit passed and repassed before her delighted eyes. The festivity might havebeen prolonged but that the maudlin voice of Bobs' father reeling into thealley struck terror to their hearts, and with small ceremony they scuttledaway to the pawnshop, leaving little Jane to hobble back alone to hercellar and wonder how it would feel to wear a warm coat like one of those. 

"Gee!" said Jimmie as they paused with one consent before the shop door, and looked reluctantly down at their brief glory, "Gee! I wisht we couldkeep jest one coat fer little Jane!"

"Couldn't we hide it some'ere's?" asked Sam, and they all looked at Buck. 

Buck, deeply touched for his sister's sake, nodded. 

"Keep Jim's, " he said huskily, "it'll do her best. "

Then the little procession filed proudly in and gave up their garmentsto the human parasite who lived on the souls of other men, and came awaybearing the one coat they had saved for Janie, each treasuring a pitifulbit of money which seemed a fortune in their eyes. 

Little Jane received her gift with true spirit when it was presented, skilfully hid it from her inhuman father, and declared that each boy shouldhave a turn at wearing the coat every Sunday at some safe hour, whereatdeep satisfaction, reigned among them. Their grandeur was not all departedafter all. 

Meantime, Mikky, in his luxurious berth in a sleeper, smiled drowsily tothink of the fine new clothes that his friends must be wearing, and thenfell asleep to dream of little Starr's kisses on his closed eyelids. 

CHAPTER IV

Into a new world came Mikky, a world of blue skies, song birds, and high, tall pines with waving moss and dreamy atmosphere; a world of plenty to eatand wear, and light and joy and ease. 

Yet it was a most bewildering world to the boy, and for the first week hestood off and looked at it questioningly, suspiciously. True, there wereno dark cellars or freezing streets, no drunken fathers or frightenedchildren, or blows, or hunger or privation; but this education he had cometo seek that he might go back to his own world and better it, was not agarment one put on and exercised in so many times a day; it was not acup from which one drank, nor an atmosphere that one absorbed. It was astrange, imperceptible thing got at in some mysterious way by a series ofvague struggles followed by sudden and almost alarming perceptions. For atime it seemed to the boy, keen though his mind, and quick, that knowledgewas a thing only granted to the few, and his was a mind that would nevergrasp it. How, for instance, did one know how to make just the rightfigures under a line when one added a long perplexity of numbers? Mikky thenewsboy could tell like a flash how much change he needed to return to thefat gentleman who occasionally gave him a five-dollar bill to change onBroadway; but Mikky the scholar, though he knew figures, and was able tostudy out with labor easy words in his papers, had never heard of adding upfigures in the way they did here, long rows of them on the blackboard. Itbecame necessary that this boy should have some private instruction beforehe would be able to enter classes. Professor Harkness himself undertook thetask, and gradually revealed to the child's neglected understanding some ofthe simple rudiments that would make his further progress possible. The sumthat was paid for his tuition made it quite necessary that the boy advancereasonably, for his benefactor had made it understood that he might someday visit the institution and see how he was getting on. So great painswere taken to enlighten Mikky's darkness. 

There was another thing that the boy could not understand, and that was thediscipline that ruled everywhere. He had always been a law unto himself, his only care being to keep out of the way of those who would interferewith this. Now he must rise with a bell, stay in his room until anotherbell, eat at a bell, go to the hard bench in the schoolroom with anotherbell, and even play ball when the recreation bell rang. It was hard on anindependent spirit to get used to all this, and while he had no mind to bedisorderly, he often broke forth into direct disobedience of the law fromsheer misunderstanding of the whole régime. 

The boys' dormitory was presided over by a woman who, while thorough inall housekeeping arrangements, had certainly mistaken her calling as asubstitute mother for boys. She kept their clothes in order, saw to it thattheir rooms were aired, their stockings darned and their lights out atexactly half-past nine, but the grimness of her countenance forbade anyfamiliarity, and she never thought of gaining the confidence of her rough, but affectionate charges. There was no tenderness in her, and Mikky neverfelt like smiling in her presence. He came and went with a sort of high, unconscious superiority that almost irritated the woman, because shewas not great enough to see the unusual spirit of the child; and as aconsequence she did not win his heart. 

But he did not miss the lack of motherliness in her, for he had never knowna mother and was not expecting it. 

The professors he grew to like, some more, some less, always admiring mostthose who seemed to him to deal in a fair and righteous manner with theirclasses--fairness being judged by the code in use among "the kids" in NewYork. But that was before he grew to know the president. After that hiscode changed. 

His first interview with that dignitary was on an afternoon when he hadbeen overheard by the matron to use vile language among the boys at thenoon hour. She hauled him up with her most severe manner, and gave him tounderstand that he must answer to the president for his conduct. 

As Mikky had no conception of his offence he went serenely to his fatewalking affably beside her, only wishing she would not look so sour. Asthey crossed the campus to the president's house a blue jay flew overhead, and a mocking bird trilled in a live oak near-by. The boy's face lightedwith joy and he laughed out gleefully, but the matron only looked the moresevere, for she thought him a hardened little sinner who was defying herauthority and laughing her to scorn. After that it was two years before shecould really believe anything good of Mikky. 

The president was a noble-faced, white-haired scholar, with a firm tendermouth, a brow of wisdom, and eyes of understanding. He was not the kindwho win by great athletic prowess, he was an old-fashioned gentleman, wellalong in years, but young in heart. He looked at the child of the slums andsaw the angel in the clay. 

He dismissed the matron with a pleasant assurance and took Mikky to aninner office where he let the boy sit quietly waiting a few minutes tillhe had finished writing a letter. If the pen halted and the kind eyesfurtively studied the beautiful face of the child, Mikky never knew it. 

The president asked the boy to tell him what he had said, and Mikky, withsweet assurance repeated innocently the terrible phrases he had used, phrases which had been familiar to him since babyhood, conveying statementsof facts that were horrible, but nevertheless daily happenings in thecorner of the world where he had brought himself up. 

With rare tact the president questioned the boy, until he made sure therewas no inherent rottenness in him: and then gently and kindly, but firmlylaid down the law and explained why it was right and necessary that thereshould be a law. He spoke of the purity of God. Mikky knew nothing of Godand listened with quiet interest. The president talked of education andculture and made matters very plain indeed. Then when the interview wasconcluded and the man asked the boy for a pledge of good faith and cleanlanguage from that time forth, Mikky's smile of approval blazed forth andhe laid his hand in that of the president readily enough, and went forthfrom the room with a great secret admiration of the man with whom he hadjust talked. The whole conversation had appealed to him deeply. 

Mikky sought his room and laboriously spelled out with lately acquiredclumsiness a letter to Buck:

"Dear Buck we mussent yuz endecent langwidg enay moor ner swar. God dontelyk it an' it ain't educated. I want you an' me to be educate. I ain't goneto, donte yoo ner let de kids. --Mikky. "

In due time, according to previous arrangement about the monthly allowance, this letter reached Buck, and he tracked the doctor for two whole daysbefore he located him and lay in wait till he came out to his carriage, when he made bold to hand over the letter to be read. 

The doctor, deeply touched, translated as best he could. Buck's educationhad been pitifully neglected. He watched the mystic paper in awe as thedoctor read. 

"Wot's indecent langwidge?" he asked with his heavy frown. 

The doctor took the opportunity to deliver a brief sermon on purity, andBuck, without so much as an audible thank you, but with a thoughtful airthat pleased the doctor, took back his letter, stuffed it into his raggedpocket and went on his way. The man watched him wistfully, wonderingwhether Mikky's appeal could reach the hardened little sinner; and, sighingat the wickedness of the world, went on his way grimly trying to make a fewthings better. 

That night "the kids" were gathered in front of little Janie's window, for she was too weak to go out with them, and Buck delivered a lesson inethical culture. Whatever Mikky, their Prince, ordered, that must be done, and Buck was doing his level best, although for the life of him he couldn'tsee the sense in it. But thereafter none of "the kids" were allowed to usecertain words and phrases, and swearing gradually became eliminated fromtheir conversation. It would have been a curious study for a linguist toobserve just what words and phrases were cut out, and what were allowed toflourish unrebuked; but nevertheless it was a reform, and Buck was doinghis best. 

With his schoolmates Mikky had a curiously high position even from thefirst. His clothes were good and he had always a little money to spend. That had been one of Endicott's wishes that the boy should be like otherboys. It meant something among a group of boys, most of whom were the sonsof rich fathers, sent down to Florida on account of weak lungs or throats. Moreover, he was brave beyond anything they had ever seen before, couldfight like a demon in defense of a smaller boy, and did not shrink frompitching into a fellow twice his size. He could tell all about the greatbase-ball and foot-ball games of New York City, knew the pitchers by nameand yet did not boast uncomfortably. He could swim like a duck and divefearlessly. He could outrun them all, by his lightness of foot, and was anexpert in gliding away from any hand that sought to hold him back. Theyadmired him from the first. 

His peculiar street slang did not trouble them in the least, nor his lackof class standing, though that presently began to be a thing of the past, for Mikky, so soon as he understood the way, marched steadily, rapidly, upthe hill of knowledge, taking in everything that was handed out to him andassimilating it. It began to look as if there would not be any left overcourses in the curriculum that might be given to some other deservingyouth. Mikky would need them all. The president and the professorsbegan presently to be deeply interested in this boy without a past; andeverywhere, with every one, Mikky's smile won his way; except with thematron, who had not forgiven him that her recommendation of his instantdismissal from the college had not been accepted. 

The boys had not asked many questions about him, nor been told much. Theyknew his father and mother were dead. They thought he had a rich guardian, perhaps a fortune some day coming, they did not care. Mikky never spokeabout any of these things and there was a strange reticence about him thatmade them dislike to ask him questions; even, when they came to know himwell. He was entered under the name of Endicott, because, on questioninghim Professor Harkness found he could lay no greater claim to any othersurname, and called him that until he could write to Mr. Endicott foradvice. He neglected to write at once and then, the name having becomefastened upon the boy, he thought it best to let the matter alone as therewas little likelihood of Mr. Endicott's coming down to the college, andit could do no harm. He never stopped to think out possible futurecomplications and the boy became known as Michael Endicott. 

But his companions, as boys will, thought the matter over, and rechristenedhim "Angel"; and Angel, or Angel Endy he became, down to the end of hiscollege course. 

One great delight of his new life was the out-of-door freedom he enjoyed. Abeautiful lake spread its silver sheet at the foot of the campus slope andhere the boy revelled in swimming and rowing. The whole country roundwas filled with wonder to his city-bred eyes. He attached himself to theteacher of natural sciences, and took long silent tramps for miles about. They penetrated dense hammocks, gathering specimens of rare orchids andexquisite flowers; they stood motionless and breathless for hours watchingand listening to some strange wild bird; they became the familiar of slimycoiling serpents in dark bogs, and of green lizards and great black velvetspiders; they brought home ravishing butterflies and moths of pale greenand gold and crimson. Mikky's room became a museum of curious and wonderfulthings, and himself an authority on a wide and varied range of topics. 

The new life with plenty of wholesome plain food, plenty of fresh air, longnights of good sleep, and happy exercise were developing the young bodyinto strength and beauty, even as the study and contact, with life weredeveloping the mind. Mikky grew up tall and straight and strong. In allthe school, even among the older boys, there was none suppler, none soperfectly developed. His face and form were beautiful as Adonis, and yet itwas no pink and white feminine beauty. There was strength, simplicityand character in his face. With the acceptance of his new code of moralsaccording to the president, had grown gradually a certain look of highmoral purpose. No boy in his presence dared use language not up to thestandard. No boy with his knowledge dared do a mean or wrong thing. Andyet, in spite of this, not a boy in the school but admired him and was moreor less led by him. If he had been one whit less brave, one shade moreconscious of self and self's interests, one tiny bit conceited, this wouldnot have been. But from being a dangerous experiment in their midst Mikkybecame known as a great influence for good. The teachers saw it andmarvelled. The matron saw it and finally, though grudgingly, acceptedit. The president saw it and rejoiced. The students saw it not, butacknowledged it in their lives. 

Mikky's flame of gold hair had grown more golden and flaming with theyears, so that when their ball team went to a near-by town to play, Mikkywas sighted by the crowd and pointed out conspicuously at once. 

"Who is that boy with the hair?" some one would ask one of the team. 

"That? Oh, that's the Angel! Wait till you see him play, " would be thereply. And he became known among outsiders as the Angel with the goldenhair. At a game a listener would hear:

"Oh, see! see! There'll be something doing now. The Angel's at the bat!"

Yet in spite of all this the boy lived a lonely life. Giving of himselfcontinually to those about him, receiving in return their love anddevotion, he yet felt in a great sense set apart from them all. Every nowand again some boy's father or mother, or both, would come down for a tripthrough the South; or a sister or a little brother. Then that boy would beexcused from classes and go off with his parents for perhaps a whole week;or they would come to visit him every day, and Michael would look on andsee the love light beaming in their eyes. That would never be for him. Noone had ever loved him in that way. 

Sometimes he would close his eyes and try to get back in memory to thetime when he was shot; and the wonder of the soft bed, the sweet room, andlittle Starr's kisses. But the years were multiplying now and room andnurse and all were growing very dim. Only little Starr's kisses remained, a delicate fragrance of baby love, the only kisses that the boy had everknown. One day, when a classmate had been telling of the coming of hisfather and what it would mean to him, Michael went into his room andlocking his door sat down and wrote a stiff school boy letter to hisbenefactor, thanking him for all that he had done for him. It told briefly, shyly of a faint realization of that from which he had been saved; itshowed a proper respect, and desire to make good, and it touched the heartof the busy man who had almost forgotten about the boy, but it gave no hintof the heart hunger which had prompted its writing. 

The next winter, when Michael was seventeen, Delevan Endicott and hisdaughter Starr took a flying trip through the South, and stopped for anight and a day at the college. 

The president told Michael of his expected coming. Professor Harkness hadgone north on some school business. 

The boy received the news quietly enough, with one of his brilliant smiles, but went to his room with a tumult of wonder, joy, and almost fear in hisheart. Would Mr. Endicott be like what he remembered, kind and interestedand helpful? Would he be pleased with the progress his protégé had made, or would he be disappointed? Would there be any chance to ask after littleStarr? She was a baby still in the thoughts of the boy, yet of course shemust have grown. And so many things might have happened--she might not beliving now. No one would think or care to tell him. 

Baby Starr! His beautiful baby! He exulted in the thought that he had flunghis little useless life, once, between her lovely presence and death! Hewould do it again gladly now if that would repay all that her father haddone for him. Michael the youth was beginning to understand all that thatmeant. 

Those other friends of his, Buck, Jimmie, Bobs, and the rest, were stillenshrined in his faithful heart, though their memory had grown dimmer withthe full passing years. Faithfully every month the boy had sent Buck twodollars from his pocket money, his heart swelling with pleasure that he washelping those he loved, but only twice had any word come back from that farcity where he had left them. In answer to the letter which the doctor hadtranslated to them, there had come a brief laborious epistle, terse andto the point, written with a stub of pencil on the corner of a piece ofwrapping paper, and addressed by a kindly clerk at the post office whereBuck bought the stamped envelope. It was the same clerk who usually paidto the urchin his monthly money order, so he knew the address. For theinditing of the letter Buck went to night school two whole weeks before hecould master enough letters and words to finish it to his satisfaction, Itread:

"Deer Mik WE WunT

"Buck. "

The significant words filled the boy's heart with pride over his friendwhenever he thought of it, even after some time had passed. He had faith inBuck. Somehow in his mind it seemed that Buck was growing and keeping pacewith him, and he never dreamed that if Buck should see him now he would notrecognize him. 

When Mikky had been in Florida several years another letter had come fromBuck addressed in the same way, and little better written than the other. Night school had proved too strenuous for Buck; besides, he felt he knewenough for all practical purposes and it was not likely he would need towrite many letters. This, however, was an occasion that called for one. 

"Dear Mikky Jany is DEAD sHe sayd tell yo hur LUV beeryd hur in owr kote wegiv hur ther wuz a angle wit pink wins on top uv the wite hurs an a witehors we got a lot uv flowers by yur money so yo needn sen no mor money kuzwe ken got long now til yo cum BUCK. "

After that, though Michael had written as usual every month for some timeno reply had come, and the money orders had been returned to him as notcalled for. Buck in his simplicity evidently took it for granted that Mikkywould not send the money and so came no more to the office, at leastthat was the solution Michael put upon it, and deep down in his hearthe registered a vow to go and hunt up Buck the minute he was through atcollege, and free to go back to New York and help his friends. Meantime, though the years had dimmed those memories of his old life, and the dayswent rapidly forward in study, he kept always in view his great intentionof one day going back to better his native community. 

But the coming of Mr. Endicott was a great event to the boy. He couldscarcely sleep the night before the expected arrival. 

It was just before the evening meal that the through train from New Yorkreached the station. Michael had been given the privilege of going down tomeet his benefactor. 

Tall and straight and handsome he stood upon the platform as the trainrushed into the town, his cheeks glowing from excitement, his eyes brightwith anticipation, his cap in his hand, and the last rays of the settingsun glowing in his golden hair, giving a touch like a halo round his head. When Endicott saw him he exclaimed mentally over his strength and manlybeauty, and more than one weary tourist leaned from the open car window andgazed, for there was ever something strange and strong and compelling aboutMichael that reminded one of the beauty of an angel. 

CHAPTER V

Michael met Mr. Endicott unembarrassed. His early life in New York hadgiven him a self-poise that nothing seemed to disturb; but when the fatherturned to introduce his young daughter, the boy caught his breath and gazedat her with deepening color, and intense delight. 

She was here then, his Starr! She had come to see him, and she looked justas he would have her look. He had not realized before that she would begrown up, but of course she would, and the change in her was not so greatas to shock his memory. The clear white of her skin with its fresh coloringwas the same. New York life had not made it sallow. The roses were in hercheeks as much as when she was a little child. Her eyes were the same, darkand merry and looked at him straightly, unabashed, with the ease of agirl trained by a society mother. The dark curls were there, only longer, hanging to the slender waist and crowned with a fine wide Panama hat. Shegave him a little gloved hand and said: "I'm afraid I don't remember youvery well, but daddy has been telling me about you and I'm very glad to seeyou. "

She was only a little over twelve, but she spoke with ease and simplicity, and for the first time in his life Michael felt conscious of himself. Shewas so perfect, so lovely, so finished in every expression and movement. She looked at him intelligently, politely curious, and no longer with thebaby eyes that wondered at nothing. He himself could not help wonderingwhat she must think of him, and for a few minutes he grew shy before her. 

Mr. Endicott was surprised and pleased at the appearance of the boy. Thepassing of the years had easily erased the tender feelings that Mikky thelittle street urchin had stirred in his heart. This visit to the school andcollege was not so much on account of the boy, to whom he had come to feelhe had discharged his full duty, but because of the repeated invitations onthe part of Professor Harkness and the president. It went not against himto see the institution to which he had from time to time contributed, inaddition to his liberal allowance for the education of the boy. It wasperfectly convenient for him to stop, being on the regular route he hadlaid out for his southern trip. His wife he had left at Palm Beach with herfashionable friends; and with Starr as his companion, the father wasgoing through the orange belt on a tour of investigation with a view toinvestments. It suited him perfectly to stop off and receive the thanks ofthe college, therefore he stopped. Not that he was a heartless man, butthere were so many things in his world to make him forget, and a littlepleasant adulation is grateful to the most of us. 

But when Michael in all his striking beauty stood before him with thedeference of a more than son, his heart suddenly gave a great leap back tothe day when he had first looked down upon the little white face on thepillow; when the blue eyes had opened and Mikky had smiled. Michael smilednow, and Endicott became aware at once of the subtle fascination of thatsmile. And now the thought presented itself. "What if this were my son! howproud I should be of him!"

Michael was indeed good to look upon even to the eyes of the city critic. Endicott had taken care to leave orders with his tailor for a full outfitto be sent to the boy, Spring and Fall, of suitable plain clothing for aschool boy, little realizing how unnecessary it would have been to havedressed him so well. The tailor, nothing loth, had taken the measurementswhich were sent to him from year to year in answer to the letter of thefirm, and had kept Michael looking as well as any rich man's son needdesire to look. Not that the boy knew nor realized. The clothes came tohim, like his board and tuition, and he took them well pleased and wrotehis best letter of thanks each year as Professor Harkness suggested; but hehad no idea that a part at least of his power of leadership with all theboys of the school was due to his plain though stylishly cut garments. Thisfact would not have counted for anything with boys who had been living inFlorida for years, for any plain decent clothes were thought fit, no matterhow they were cut; but the patronage of the school was at least one-halfmade up of rich men's sons who were sent South for a few years to a milderclimate for their health. These as a rule, when they came, had exaggeratedideas of the importance of clothes and prevailing modes. 

And so it was that Michael did not look like a dowdy country boy to hisbenefactor, but on the contrary presented a remarkable contrast with manyof the boys with whom Endicott was acquainted at home. There was somethingabout Michael even when he was a small lad that commanded marked attentionfrom all who saw him. This attention Endicott and his daughter gave nowas they walked beside him in the glow of the sunset, and listened as hepointed out the various spots of interest in the little college town. 

The institution boasted of no carriage, and the single horse-car thattravelled to the station belonged to the hotel and its guests. However, thewalk was not long, and gave the travellers an opportunity to breathe theclear air and feel the stillness of the evening which was only emphasizedby each separate sound now and again. 

Starr, as she walked on the inside of the board sidewalk, and looked downat the small pink and white and crimson pea blossoms growing broad-cast, and then up at the tallness of the great pines, felt a kind of awe stealingupon her. The one day she had spent at Palm Beach had been so filled withhotels and people and automobiles that she had had no opportunity torealize the tropical nature of the land. But here in this quiet spot, where the tiny station, the post office, the grocery, and a few scattereddwellings with the lights of the great tourists' hotel gleaming in thedistance, seemed all there was of human habitation; and where the sky waswide even to bewilderment; she seemed suddenly to realize the differencefrom New York. 

Michael had recovered his poise as soon as she no longer faced him, thoughhe was profoundly conscious of her presence there on the other side of herfather. But he talked easily and well. Yes, there was the hotel. It heldfive hundred guests and was pretty well filled at this season of theyear. There were some distinguished people stopping there. The railroadpresident's private car was on the track for a few hours last week. Thatcar over on the siding belonged to a great steel magnate. The other one hadbrought the wife of a great inventor. Off there at the right toward thesunset were the school and college buildings. No, they could not be seen, until one passed the orange grove. Too bad there was no conveyance, butthe one little car turned off toward the hotel at this corner, and the onebeast of burden belonging to the college, the college Mule--Minus, by name, because there were so many things that he was not--was lame to-day andtherefore could not be called into requisition to bring the guests from thestation. 

Mr. Endicott felt that he was drawing nearer to nature in this quiet walkthan he had been since he was a boy and visited his grandfather's farm. It rested and pleased him immensely, and he was charmed with the boy, hisprotégé. His frank, simple conversation was free from all affectation onthe one hand, or from any hint of his low origin on the other hand. He feltalready that he had done a good thing in sending this boy down here to beeducated. It was worth the little money he had put into it. 

Starr watched Michael shyly from the shelter of her father's side andlistened to him. He was not like the boys she met in New York. To beginwith he was remarkably fine looking, and added to that there was a mingledstrength and kindliness in his face, and above all about his smile, thatmade her feel instinctively that he was nobler than most of them. She couldnot think of a boy of her acquaintance who had a firm chin like that. Thisboy had something about him that made the girl know instantly that he hada greater purpose in life than his own pleasure. Not that she thought thisall out analytically. Starr had never learned to think. She only felt itas she looked at him, and liked him at once. Moreover there was a sort ofglamour over the boy in her eyes, for her father had just been telling herthe story of how he had saved her life when she was barely two yearsold. She felt a prideful proprietorship in him that made her shy in hispresence. 

At the college president's gate, just on the edge of the campus, thepresident came out with apologies. He had been detained on a bit ofbusiness at the county seat five miles away, and had driven home with afriend whose horse was very slow. He was sorry not to have done theirhonored guests the courtesy of being at the station on their arrival. Endicott walked with the president after the greetings, and Michael droppedbehind with Starr eagerly pointing out to her the buildings. 

"That's the chapel, and beyond are the study and recitation rooms. The nextis the dining hall and servant's quarters, and over on that side of thecampus is our dormitory. My window looks down on the lake. Every morning Igo before breakfast for a swim. "

"Oh, aren't you afraid of alligators?" exclaimed Starr shivering prettily. 

Michael looked down at her fragile loveliness with a softened appreciation, as one looks at the tender precious things of life that need protection. 

"No, " he answered without laughing, as some of the other boys would havedone at her girlish fears, "they never bother us here, and besides, I'msort of acquainted with them. I'm not afraid of them. Nothing will hurt youif you understand it well enough to look out for its rights. "

"Oh!" said Starr eyeing him in wonder. As if an alligator had rights! Whata strange, interesting boy. The idea of understanding an alligator. She wasabout to ask how understanding the creature would keep one from being eatenup when Michael pointed to the crimsoning West:

"See!" he said eagerly as if he were pointing to a loved scene, "the sun isalmost down. Don't you love to watch it? In a minute more it will be goneand then it will be dark. Hear that evening bird? 'Tit-wiloo! Tit-wiloo!'He sings sometimes late at night. "

Starr followed his eager words, and saw the sun slipping, slipping like agreat ruby disc behind the fringe of palm and pine and oak that borderedthe little lake below the campus; saw the wild bird dart from the thicketinto the clear amber of the sky above, utter its sweet weird call, anddrop again into the fine brown shadows of the living picture; watched, fascinated as the sun slipped lower, lower, to the half now, and now lessthan half. 

Breathless they both stood and let the two men go on ahead, while theywatched the wonder of the day turn into night. The brilliant liquid crimsonpoured itself away to other lands, till only a rim of wonderful glowinggarnet remained; then, like a living thing dying into another life, it toodropped away, and all was night. 

"Why! How dark it is!" exclaimed Starr as she turned to her companion againand found she could scarcely see his face. "Why! How queer! Where is thetwilight? Is anything the matter? I never saw it get dark all at once likethis!" She peered around into the strange velvet darkness with troubledeyes. 

Michael was all attention at once. 

"No, that's all right, " he assured her. "That's the way we do here. Almosteverybody from the north speaks about it at first. They can't understandit. Its the difference in the position of the sun, nearer the equator, youknow. I'll show you all about it on the chart in the astronomical room ifyou care to see. We haven't any twilight here. I should think twilightwould be queer. You wouldn't just know when night began and day ended. Idon't remember about it when I lived in New York. Look up there! That's theevening star! It's come out for you to-night--to welcome another--Starr!"

Oh, Michael, of unknown origin! Whence came that skill of delicatecompliment, that grace of courtesy, that you, plucked from the slime of thegutter, set apart from all sweetening influences of loving contact with, womankind, should be able so gallantly and respectfully to guide the younggirl through the darkness, touching her little elbow distantly, tactfully, reverently, exactly as the college president helps his wife across theroad on Sabbath to the church? Is it only instinct, come down from somepatrician ancestor of gallant ways and kind, or have you watched and caughtthe knack from the noble scholar who is your ideal of all that is manly?

They walked silently through the warm darkness until they came within thecircle of light from the open door, and matron and teachers came out towelcome the young stranger and bring her into the house. 

Michael lingered for a moment by the door, watching her as she went withthe matron, her sweet face wreathed in smiles, the matron's thin arm aroundher and a new and gentle look upon her severe countenance; watched untilthey mounted the stairs out of sight; then he went out of doors. 

Taking off his cap he stood reverently looking up at the star, communingwith it perhaps about the human Starr that had come back to him out of theshadows of the past. 

And she was a star. No one who saw her but acknowledged it. He marvelled ashe recalled the change wrought in the face of the matron and because of hergentleness to the little girl forgave her all that she had not been to hismotherless boyhood. 

Starr came down to dinner in a few minutes radiant in a little rosy frockof soft Eastern silk, girdled with a fringed scarf of the same and a knotof coral velvet in her hair. From the string of pearls about her white neckto the dainty point of her slipper she was exquisite and Michael watchedher with open admiration; whereat the long lashes drooped shyly over thegirl's rosy cheeks and she was mightily pleased. 

She sat at her father's side to the right of the president, with Michaelacross the table. Well he bore the scrutiny of Endicott's keen eyes whichthrough all the conversation kept searching the intelligent face of theboy. 

The evening passed like a dream, and Michael lay awake again that nightthinking of all the pleasure in anticipation for the next day. At last, atlast he had some people who in a way he might call his own. They had caredto come and see him after all the years! His heart swelled with joy andgratitude. 

The guests attended chapel exercises with the students the next morning, and Michael saw with pride the eyes of his companions turn toward thebeautiful young girl, and look at him almost with envy. The color mountedinto his strong young face, but he sat quietly in his place and no onewould have guessed to look at him, the tumult that was running riot in hisveins. He felt it was the very happiest day of his life. 

After chapel the guests were shown about the college buildings and campus. The president and Endicott walked ahead, Michael behind with Starr, answering her interested questions. 

They had been through all the classrooms, the gymnasium, the dining hall, servants' quarters and dormitories. They had visited the athletic ground, the tennis courts, and gone down by the little lake, where Michael hadtaken them out for a short row. Returning they were met by one of theprofessors who suggested their going to hear some of the classes recite, and as Mr. Endicott seemed interested they turned their steps toward therecitation hall. 

"I think, " said Starr as they walked slowly across the campus together, "that you must be a very brave boy. To think of you saving my life that waywhen you were just a little fellow!"

She looked up, her pretty face full of childish feeling. 

Michael looked down silently and smiled. He was wondering if any eyes wereever as beautiful as those before him. He had never had even a little girllook at him like that. The president's daughter was fat and a romp. Shenever took time to look at the boys. The few other girls he knew, daughtersof the professors, were quiet and studious. They paid little attention tothe boys. 

"I want to thank you for what you did, " went on Starr, "only I can't thinkof any words great enough to tell you how I feel about it. I wish there wassomething I could do to show you how I thank you?"

She lifted her sweet eyes again to his. They were entering the large Hallof the college now. 

"This way, " said Michael guiding her toward the chapel door which had justswung to behind the two men. 

"Isn't there something you would like that I could do for you?" persistedStarr earnestly, following him into the empty chapel where Mr. Endicott andthe president stood looking at a tablet on the wall by the further door. 

"Your father has done everything for me, " said Michael sunnily, with acharacteristic sweep of his hand that seemed to include himself, hisgarments and his mental outfit. He turned upon her his blazing smile thatspoke more eloquently than words could have done. 

"Yes, but that is papa, " said Starr half impatiently, softly stamping herdaintily shod foot. "He did that because of what you did for _him_ insaving my life. I should like to do something to thank you for what you didfor _me_. I'm worth something to myself you know. Isn't there something Icould do for you. "

She stood still, looking up into his face anxiously, her vivid childishbeauty seeming to catch all the brightness of the place and focus itupon him. The two men had passed out of the further door and on to therecitation rooms. The girl and boy were alone for the moment. 

"You have done something for me, you did a great deal, " he said, his voicealmost husky with boyish tenderness. "I think it was the greatest thingthat anybody ever did for me. "

"I did something for you! When? What?" questioned Starr curiously. 

"Yes, " he said, "you did a great thing for me. Maybe you don't remember it, but I do. It was when I was getting well from the shot there at your house, and your nurse used to bring you up to play with me every day; and alwaysbefore you went away, you used to kiss me. I've never forgotten that. "

He said it quite simply as if it were a common thing for a boy to say to agirl. His voice was low as though the depths of his soul were stirred. 

A flood of pretty color came into Starr's cheeks. 

"Oh!" she said quite embarrassed at the turn of the conversation, "but thatwas when I was a baby. I couldn't do that now. Girls don't kiss boys youknow. It wouldn't be considered proper. "

"I know, " said Michael, his own color heightening now, "I didn't mean that. I wanted you to know how much you had done for me already. You don't knowwhat it is never to have been kissed by your mother, or any living soul. Nobody ever kissed me in all my life that I know of but you. "

He looked down at the little girl with such a grave, sweet expression, hiseyes so expressive of the long lonely years without woman's love, thatchild though she was Starr seemed to understand, and her whole young soulwent forth in pity. Tears sprang to her eyes. 

"Oh!" she said, "That is dreadful! Oh!--I don't care if it isn't proper--"

And before he knew what she was about to do the little girl tilted to hertiptoes, put up her dainty hands, caught him about the neck and pressed awarm eager kiss on his lips. Then she sprang away frightened, sped acrossthe room, and through the opposite door. 

Michael stood still in a bewilderment of joy for the instant. Thecompelling of her little hands, the pressure of her fresh lips stilllingered with him. A flood tide of glory swept over his whole being. Therewere tears in his eyes, but he did not know it. He stood with bowed head asthough in a holy place. Nothing so sacred, so beautiful, had ever come intohis life. Her baby kisses had been half unconscious. This kiss was given ofher own free will, because she wanted to do something for him. He did notattempt to understand the wonderful joy that surged through his heart andpulsed in every fibre of his being. His lonely, unloved life was enough toaccount for it, and he was only a boy with a brief knowledge of life; buthe knew enough to enshrine that kiss in his heart of hearts as a holything, not even to be thought about carelessly. 

When he roused himself to follow her she had disappeared. Her father andthe president were listening to a recitation, but she was nowhere to beseen. She had gone to her own room. Michael went down by himself in athicket by the lake. 

She met him shyly at dinner, with averted gaze and a glow on her cheeks, asif half afraid of what she had done, but he reassured her with his eyes. His glance seemed to promise he would never take advantage of what she haddone. His face wore an exalted look, as if he had been lifted above earth, and Starr, looking at him wonderingly, was glad she had followed herimpulse. 

They took a horseback ride to the college grove that afternoon, Mr. Endicott, one of the professors, Starr and Michael. The president hadborrowed the horses from some friends. 

Michael sat like a king upon his horse. He had ridden the college mulebareback every summer, and riding seemed to be as natural to him as anyother sport. Starr had been to a New York riding school, and was accustomedto taking her morning exercise with her father in the Park, or accompaniedby a footman; but she sat her Florida pony as happily as though he had beena shiny, well-groomed steed of priceless value. Somehow it seemed to heran unusually delightful experience to ride with this nice boy through thebeautiful shaded road of arching live-oaks richly draped with old graymoss. Michael stopped by the roadside, where the shade was dense, dismounted and plunged into the thicket, returning in a moment with twoor three beautiful orchids and some long vines of the wonderful yellowjessamine whose exquisite perfume filled all the air about. He wreathed thejessamine about the pony's neck, and Starr twined it about her hat and worethe orchids in her belt. 

Starr had never seen an orange grove before and took great delight inthe trees heavily loaded with fruit, green and yellow and set about byblossoms. She tucked a spray of blossoms in her dark hair under the edge ofher hat, and Michael looked at her and smiled in admiration. Mr. Endicott, glancing toward his daughter, caught the look, and was reminded of the timewhen he had found the two children in his own drawing room being madea show for his wife's guests, and sighed half in pleasure, half inforeboding. What a beautiful pair they were to be sure, and what had thefuture in store for his little girl?

On the way back they skirted another lake and Michael dismounted again tobring an armful of great white magnolia blossoms, and dainty bay buds tothe wondering Starr; and then they rode slowly on through the wooded, road, the boy telling tales of adventures here and there; pointing out a blue jayor calling attention to the mocking bird's song. 

"I wish you could be here next week, " said the boy wistfully. "It willbe full moon then. There is no time to ride through this place like amoonlight evening. It seems like fairyland then. The moonbeams make fairyladders of the jessamine vines. "

"It must be beautiful, " said Starr dreamily. Then they rode for a fewminutes in silence. They were coming to the end of the overarched avenue. Ahead of them the sunlight shone clearly like the opening of a great tunnelframed in living green. Suddenly Starr looked up gravely:

"I'm going to kiss you good-bye to-night when, we go away, " she saidsoftly; and touching her pony lightly with the whip rode out into thebright road; the boy, his heart leaping with joy, not far behind her. 

Before supper Mr. Endicott had a talk with Michael that went further towardmaking the fatherless boy feel that he had someone belonging to him thananything that had happened yet. 

"I think you have done enough for me, sir, " said Michael respectfullyopening the conversation as Endicott came out to the porch where the boywas waiting for him. "I think I ought to begin to earn my own living. I'mold enough now--" and he held his head up proudly. "It's been very good ofyou all these years--I never can repay you. I hope you will let me pay themoney back that you have spent on me, some day when, I can earn enough--"

Michael had been thinking this speech out ever since the president had toldhim of Endicott's expected visit, but somehow it did not sound as well tohim when he said it as he had thought it would. It seemed the only rightthing to do when he planned it, but in spite of him as he looked into Mr. Endicott's kind, keen eyes, his own fell in troubled silence. Had his wordssounded ungrateful? Had he seen a hurt look in the man's eyes?

"Son, " said Endicott after a pause, and the word stirred the boy's heartstrangely, "son, I owe you a debt you never can repay. You gave me back mylittle girl, flinging your own life into the chance as freely as if youhad another on hand for use any minute. I take it that I have at least afather's right in you at any rate, and I mean to exercise it until you aretwenty-one. You must finish a college course first. When will that be?Three years? They tell me you are doing well. The doctor wants to keep youhere to teach after you have graduated, but I had thought perhaps you wouldlike to come up to New York and have your chance. I'll give you a year ortwo in business, whatever seems to be your bent when you are through, andthen we'll see. Which would you rather do? Or, perhaps you'd prefer to letyour decision rest until the time comes. "

"I think I'm bound to go back to New York, sir, " said Michael lifting hishead with that peculiar motion all his own, so like a challenge. "You know, sir, you said I was to be educated so that I might help my friends. I havelearned of course that you meant it in a broader sense than just those fewboys, for one can help people anywhere; but still I feel as if it wouldn'tbe right for me not to go back. I'm sure they'll expect me. "

Endicott shrugged his shoulders half admiringly. 

"Loyal to your old friends still? Well, that's commendable, but still Ifancy you'll scarcely find them congenial now. I wouldn't let them hang tooclosely about you. They might become a nuisance. You have your way to makein the world, you know. "

Michael looked at his benefactor with troubled brows. Somehow the tone ofthe man disturbed him. 

"I promised, " he said simply. Because there had bean so little in hisaffections that promise had been cherished through the years, and meantmuch to Michael. It stood for Principle and Loyalty in general. 

"Oh, well, keep your promise, of course, " said the man of the world easily. "I fancy you will find the discharge of it a mere form. "

A fellow student came across the campus. 

"Endicott, " he called, "have you seen Hallowell go toward the villagewithin a few minutes?"

"He just want, out the gate, " responded Michael pleasantly. 

Mr. Endicott looked up surprised. 

"Is that the name by which you are known?"

"Endicott? Yes, sir, Michael Endicott. Was it not by your wish? I supposedthey had asked you. I had no other name that I knew. "

"Ah! I didn't know, " pondered Endicott. 

There was silence for a moment. 

"Would you, --shall I--do you dislike my having it?" asked the boydelicately sensitive at once. 

But the man looked up with something like tenderness in his smile. 

"Keep it, son. I like it. I wish I had a boy like you. It is an old nameand a proud one. Be worthy of it. "

"I will try, sir, " said Michael, as if he were registering a vow. 

There was an early supper for the guests and then Michael walked throughanother sunset to the station with Starr. He carried a small box carefullyprepared in which reposed a tiny green and blue lizard for a parting gift. She had watched the lizards scuttling away under the board sidewalks attheir approach, or coming suddenly to utter stillness, changing theirbrilliant colors to gray like the fence boards that they might not beobserved. She was wonderfully interested in them, and was charmed with hergift. The particular lizard in question was one that Michael had trained toeat crumbs from his hand, and was quite tame. 

The two said little as they walked along together. Each was feeling what ahappy time they had spent in one another's company. 

"I shall write and tell you how the lizard is, " said Starr laughing, "andyou will tell me all about the funny and interesting things you are doing, won't you?"

"If--I may, " said Michael wistfully. 

At the station a New York acquaintance of the Endicotts' invited them toride in his private car which was on the side track waiting for the trainto pick them up. Michael helped Starr up the steps, and carried the lizardinto the car as well as the great sheaf of flowers she insisted on takingwith her. 

There were some ladies inside who welcomed Starr effusively; and Michael, suddenly abashed, laid down the flowers, lifted his cap and withdrew. Asudden blank had come upon him. Starr was absorbed by people from anotherworld than his. He would have no opportunity to say good-bye--and she hadpromised--But then of course he ought not to expect her to do that. She hadbeen very kind to him--

He was going down the steps now. An instant more and he would be on thecinders of the track. 

A sudden rush, a soft cry, caused him to pause on the second step of thevestibuled car. It was Starr, standing just above him, and her eyes wereshining like her namesake the evening star. 

"You were going without good-bye, " she reproved, and her cheeks were rosyred, but she stood her ground courageously. Placing a soft hand gently oneither cheek as he stood below her, his face almost on a level with hers, she tilted his head toward her and touched his lips with her own red ones, delicately as if a rose had swept them. 

Simultaneously came the sound of the distant train. 

"Good-bye, you nice, splendid boy!" breathed Starr, and waving her handdarted inside the ear. 

Mr. Endicott, out on the platform, still talking to the president, heardthe oncoming train and looked around for Michael. He saw him coming fromthe car with his exalted look upon his face, his cap off, and the goldenbeams of the sun again sending their halo like a nimbus over his hair. 

Catching his hand heartily, he said:

"Son, I'm pleased with you. Keep it up, and come to me when you are ready. I'll give you a start. "

Michael gripped his hand and blundered out some words of thanks. Then thetrain was upon them, and Endicott had to go. 

The two younger ladies in the car, meantime, were plying Starr withquestions. "Who is that perfectly magnificent young man. Starr Endicott?Why didn't you introduce him to us? I declare I never saw such a beautifulface on any human being before. "

A moment more and the private car was fastened to the train, and Starrleaning from the window waved her tiny handkerchief until the train hadthundered away among the pines, and there was nothing left but the echo ofits sound. The sun was going down but it mattered not. There was sunshinein the boy's heart. She was gone, his little Starr, but she had left thememory of her soft kiss and her bright eyes; and some day, some day, whenhe was done with college, he would see her again. Meantime he was content. 

CHAPTER VI

The joy of loving kindness in his life, and a sense that somebody cared, seemed to have the effect of stimulating Michael's mind to greaterenergies. He studied with all his powers. Whatever he did he did with hismight, even his play. 

The last year of his stay in Florida, a Department of Scientific Farmingwas opened on a small scale. Michael presented himself as a student. 

"What do you want of farming, Endicott?" asked the president, happening topass through the room on the first day of the teacher's meeting with hisstudents. "You can't use farming in New York. "

There was perhaps in the kindly old president's mind a hope that the boywould linger with them, for he had become attached to him in a silent, undemonstrative sort of way. 

"I might need it sometime, " answered Michael, "and anyway I'd like tounderstand it. You said the other day that no knowledge was ever wasted. I'd like to know enough at least to tell somebody else. "

The president smiled, wondered, and passed on. Michael continued in theclass, supplementing the study by a careful reading of all the Agriculturalmagazines, and Government literature on the subject that came in his way. Agriculture had had a strange fascination for him ever since a notedspeaker from the North had come that way and in an address to the studentstold them that the new field for growth to-day lay in getting hack tonature and cultivating the earth. It was characteristic of Michael that hedesired to know if that statement was true, and if so, why. Therefore hestudied. 

The three years flew by as if by magic. Michael won honors not a few, andthe day came when he had completed his course, and as valedictorian of hisclass, went up to the old chapel for his last commencement in the college. 

He sat on the platform looking down on the kindly, uncritical audience thathad assembled for the exercises, and saw not a single face that had comefor his sake alone. Many were there who were interested in him because theyhad known him through the years, and because he bore the reputation ofbeing the honor man of his class and the finest athlete in school. But thatwas not like having some one of his very own who cared whether he did wellor not. He found himself wishing that even Buck might have been there;Buck, the nearest to a brother he had ever had. Would Buck have cared thathe had won highest rank? Yes, he felt that Buck would have been proud ofhim. 

Michael had sent out three invitations to commencement, one to Mr. Endicott, one to Starr, and one addressed to Buck, with the inner envelopebearing the words "For Buck and 'the kids, '" but no response had come toany of them. He had received back the one addressed to Buck with "NotCalled For" in big pink letters stamped across the corner. It had reachedhim that morning, just before he came on the platform. He wished it hadnot come till night; it gave him a lonely, almost forsaken feeling. He was"educated" now, at least enough to know what he did not know; and there wasno one to care. 

When Michael sat down after his oration amid a storm of hearty applause, prolonged by his comrades into something like an ovation, some one handedhim a letter and a package. There had been a mistake made at the postoffice in sorting the mail and these had not been put into the college box. One of the professors going down later found them and brought them up. 

The letter was from Mr. Endicott containing a businesslike line ofcongratulations, a hope that the recipient would come to New York if hestill felt of that mind, and a check for a hundred dollars. 

Michael looked at the check awesomely, re-read the letter carefully andput both in his pocket. The package was tiny and addressed in Starr'shandwriting. Michael saved that till he should go to his room. He did notwant to open it before any curious eyes. 

Starr's letters had been few and far between, girlish little epistles;and the last year they had ceased altogether. Starr was busy with life;finishing-school and dancing-school and music-lessons and good times. Michael was a dim and pleasant vision to her. 

The package contained a scarf-pin of exquisite workmanship. Starr hadpleased herself by picking out the very prettiest thing she could find. Shehad her father's permission to spend as much as she liked on it. It was inthe form of an orchid, with a tiny diamond like a drop of dew on one petal. 

Michael looked on it with wonder, the first suggestion of personaladornment that had ever come to him. He saw the reminder of their daytogether in the form of the orchid; studied the beautiful name, "StarrDelevan Endicott, " engraved upon the card; then put them carefully backinto their box and locked it into his bureau drawer. He would wear it thefirst time he went to see Starr. He was very happy that day. 

The week after college closed Michael drove the college mule to the countyseat, ten miles away, and bought a small trunk. It was not much of a trunkbut it was the best the town afforded. In this he packed all his worldlypossessions, bade good-bye to the president, and such of the professors ashad not already gone North for their vacations, took a long tramp to allhis old haunts, and boarded the midnight train for New York. 

The boy had a feeling of independence which kept him from letting hisbenefactor know of his intended arrival. He did not wish to make him anyunnecessary trouble, and though he had now been away from New York forfourteen years, he felt a perfect assurance that he could find his wayabout. There are some things that one may learn even at seven, that willnever be forgotten. 

When Michael landed in New York he looked about him with vague bewildermentfor a moment. Then he started out with assurance to find a new spot forhimself in the world. 

Suit-case he had not, nor any baggage but his trunk to hinder him. He haddiscovered that the trunk could remain in the station for a day withoutcharge. The handsome raincoat and umbrella which had been a part of theoutfit the tailor had sent him that spring were all his encumbrances, so hepicked his way unhampered across Liberty Street, eyeing his former enemies, the policemen, and every little urchin or newsboy with interest. Of courseBuck and the rest would have grown up and changed some; they wouldn'tlikely be selling papers now--but--these were boys such as he had been. Hebought a paper of a little ragged fellow with a pinched face, and a strangesensation came over him. When he left this city he was the newsboy, and nowhe had money enough to buy a paper--and the education to read it! What adifference! Not that he wanted the paper at present, though it might proveinteresting later, but he wanted the experience of buying it. It marked theera of change in his life and made the contrast tremendous. Immediately hisreal purpose in having an education, the uplift of his fellow-beings, which had been most vague during the years, took form and leapt into vividinterest, as he watched the little skinny legs of the newsboy nimblyscrambling across the muddy street under the feet of horses, and betweenautomobiles, in imminent danger of his life. 

Michael had thought it all out, just what he would do, and he proceeded tocarry out his purpose. He had no idea what a fine picture of well-groomedyouth and manly beauty he presented as he marched down the street. Hewalked like a king, and New York abashed him no more now that he had comeback than it did before he went away. There are some spirits born that way. He walked like a "gentleman, unafraid. "

He had decided not to go to Mr. Endicott until he had found lodgingssomewhere. An innate delicacy had brought him to this decision. He wouldnot put one voluntary burden upon his kind benefactor. Born and bred in theslums, whence came this fineness of feeling? Who shall say?

Michael threaded his way through the maze of traffic, instinct and vaguestirrings of memory guiding him to a quiet shabby street where he found adingy little room for a small price. The dangers that might have beset astrange young man in the great city were materially lessened for him onaccount of his wide reading. He had read up New York always whereverhe found an article or book or story that touched upon it; and withoutrealizing it he was well versed in details. He had even pondered for hoursover a map of New York that he found in the back of an old magazine, comparing it with his faint memories, until he knew the location of thingswith relation to one another pretty well. A stranger less versed might havegotten into most undesirable quarters. 

The boy looked around his new home with a strange sinking of heart, afterhe had been out to get something to eat, and arranged for his trunk to besent to his room. It was very tiny and not over clean. The wall paper wasa dingy flowered affair quite ancient in design, and having to allappearances far outlived a useful life. The one window looked out to brickwalls, chimneys and roofs. The noise of the city clattered in; the smellsand the heat made it almost stifling to the boy who had lived for thirteenyears in the sunshine of the South, and the freedom of the open. 

The narrow bed looked uninviting, the bureau-washstand was of the cheapest, and the reflection Michael saw in its warped mirror would have made any boywith a particle of vanity actually suffer. Michael, however, was not vain. He thought little about himself, but this room was depressing. The floorwas covered with a nondescript carpet faded and soiled beyond redemption, and when his trunk was placed between the bureau and the bed there would bescarcely room for the one wooden chair. It was not a hopeful outlook. Theboy took off his coat and sat down on the bed to whistle. 

Life, grim, appalling, spectral-like, uprose before his mental vision, and he spent a bad quarter of an hour trying to adjust himself to hissurroundings; his previous sunny philosophy having a tough tussle with thesudden realities of things as they were. Then his trunk arrived. 

It was like Michael to unpack it at once and put all his best philosophicalresolves into practice. 

As he opened the trunk a whiff of the South, exhaled. He caught his breathwith a sudden keen, homesickness. He realized that his school days wereover, and all the sweetness and joy of that companionful life passed. Hehad often felt alone in those days. He wondered at it now. He had never inall his experience known such aloneness as now in this great strange city. 

The last thing he had put into his trunk had been a branch of mammoth pineneedles. The breath of the tree brought back all that meant home to him. Hecaught it up and buried his face in the plumy tassels. 

The tray of the trunk was filled with flags, pennants, photographs, andcollege paraphernalia. Eagerly he pulled them all out and spread them overthe bumpy little bed. Then he grabbed for his hat and rushed out. In a fewminutes he returned with a paper of tacks, another of pins, and a smalltack hammer. In an hour's time he had changed the atmosphere of the wholeplace. Not an available inch of bare wall remained with, its ugly, dirtywallpaper. College colors, pennants and flags were grouped about pictures, and over the unwashed window was draped Florida moss. Here and there, apparently fluttering on the moss or about the room, were fastenedbeautiful specimens of semi-tropical moths and butterflies in the gaudiestof colors. A small stuffed alligator reposed above the window, gazingapathetically down, upon the scene. A larger alligator skin was tacked onone wall. One or two queer bird's nests fastened to small branches hungquite naturally here and there. 

Michael threw down the hammer and sat down to survey his work, drawing abreath of relief. He felt more at home now with the photographs of hisfellow students smiling down upon him. Opposite was the base-ball team, frowning and sturdy; to the right the Glee Club with himself as theirleader; to the left a group of his classmates, with his special chum in themidst. As he gazed at that kindly face in the middle he could almost hearthe friendly voice calling to him: "Come on, Angel! You're sure to winout!"

Michael felt decidedly better, and fell to hanging up his clothes andarranging his effects on clean papers in the rheumatic bureau drawers. These were cramped quarters but would do for the present until he was sureof earning some money, for he would not spend his little savings more thanhe could help now and he would not longer be dependent upon the benefactionof Mr. Endicott. 

When his box of books arrived he would ask permission to put some shelvesover the window. Then he would feel quite cosy and at home. 

So he cheered himself as he went about getting into his best garments, forhe intended to arrive at Madison Avenue about the time that his benefactorreached home for the evening. 

Michael knew little of New York ways, and less of the habits of society;the few novels that had happened in his way being his only instructors onthe subject. He was going entirely on his dim memories of the habits of theEndicott home during his brief stay there. As it happened Mr. Endicott wasat home when Michael arrived and the family were dining alone. 

The boy was seated in the reception room gazing about him with the easeof his habitual unconsciousness of self, when Endicott came down bringingStarr with him. A second time the man of the world was deeply impressedwith the fine presence of this boy from obscurity. He did not look out ofplace even in a New York drawing room. It was incredible; though of coursea large part of it was due to his city-made clothing. Still, that would notby any means account for case of manner, graceful courtesy, and an instinctfor saying the right thing at the right time. 

Endicott invited the lad to dine with them and Starr eagerly seconded theinvitation. Michael accepted as eagerly, and a few moments later foundhimself seated at the elegantly appointed table by the side of a beautifuland haughty woman who stared at him coldly, almost insultingly, and madenot one remark to him throughout the whole meal. The boy looked at her halfwonderingly. It almost seemed as if she intended to resent his presence, yet of course that could not be. His idea of this whole family was thehighest. No one belonging to Starr could of course be aught but lovely ofspirit. 

Starr herself seemed to feel the disapproval of her mother, and shrink intoherself, saying very little, but smiling shyly at Michael now and then whenher mother was not noticing her. 

Starr was sixteen now, slender and lovely as she had given promise ofbeing. Michael watched her satisfied. At last he turned to the mothersitting in her cold grandeur, and with the utmost earnestness and deferencein his voice said, his glance still half toward Starr:

"She is like you, and yet not!"

He said it gravely, as if it were a discovery of the utmost importance tothem both, and he felt sure it was the key to her heart, this admission ofhis admiration of the beautiful girl. 

Mrs. Endicott froze him with her glance. 

From the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes and back againhe felt it, that insulting resentment of his audacity in expressing anyopinion about her daughter; or in fact in having any opinion. For aninstant his self-possession deserted him, and his face flushed with mingledemotions. Then he saw a look of distress on Starr's face as she struggledto make reply for her silent mother:

"Yes, mamma and I are often said to resemble one another strongly, " andthere was a tremble in Starr's voice that roused all the manliness inthe boy. He flung off the oppression that was settling down upon him andlistened attentively to what Endicott was saying, responding gracefully, intelligently, and trying to make himself think that it was hisinexperience with ladies that had caused him to say somethinginappropriate. Henceforth during the evening he made no more personalremarks. 

Endicott took the boy to his den after dinner, and later Starr slipped inand they talked a little about their beautiful day in Florida together. Starr asked him if he still rode and would like to ride with her in thePark the next morning when she took her exercise, and it was arranged inthe presence of her father and with his full consent that Michael shouldaccompany her in place of the groom who usually attended her rides. 

Mrs. Endicott came in as they were making this arrangement, and immediatelycalled Starr sharply out of the room. 

After their withdrawal Endicott questioned the boy carefully about hiscollege course and his habits of living. He was pleased to hear thatMichael had been independent enough to secure lodgings before coming to hishouse. It showed a spirit that was worth helping, though he told him thathe should have come straight to him. 

As Endicott was going off on a business trip for a week he told Michael toenjoy himself looking around the city during his absence, and on his returnpresent himself at the office at an appointed hour when he would put him inthe way of something that would start him in life. 

Michael thanked him and went back to his hot little room on the fourthfloor, happy in spite of heat and dinginess and a certain homesick feeling. Was he not to ride with Starr in the morning? He could hardly sleep forthinking of it, and of all he had to say to her. 

CHAPTER VII

When Michael presented himself at the appointed hour the next morning hewas shown into a small reception room by a maid, and there he waited fora full half hour. At the end of that time he heard a discreet rustle ofgarments in the distance, and a moment later, became aware of a cold starefrom the doorway. Mrs. Endicott in an elaborate morning frock was surveyinghim fixedly through a jewelled lorgnette, her chin tilted contemptuously, and an expression of supreme scorn upon her handsome features. Woman of theworld that she was, she must have noted the grace of his every movement ashe rose with his habitual courtesy to greet her. Yet for some reason thisonly seemed to increase her dislike. 

There was no welcoming hand held out in response to his good morning, andno answering smile displaced the severity of the woman's expression as shestood confronting the boy, slowly paralyzing him with her glance. Not aword did she utter. She could convey her deepest meaning without words whenshe chose. 

But Michael was a lad of great self-control, and keen logical mind. He sawno reason for the woman's attitude of rebuke, and concluded he must bemistaken in it. Rallying his smile once more he asked:

"Is Miss Starr ready to ride, or have I come too early?"

Again the silence became impressive as the cold eyes looked him through, before the thin lips opened. 

"My daughter is not ready to ride--with YOU, this morning or at any othertime!"

"I beg your pardon, ma'am, " said Michael now deeply astonished, and utterlyunable to fathom the woman's strange manner. "Have I misunderstood? Ithought she asked me to ride with her this morning. May I see her, please?"

"No, you may not see Miss Endicott!" said the cold voice. "And I havecome down to tell you that I consider your coming here at all a greatimpertinence. Certainly my husband has fully discharged any obligations forthe slight service he is pleased to assume that you rendered a good manyyears ago. I have always had my doubts as to whether you did not do moreharm than good at that time. Of course you were only a child and it wasimpossible that you should have done any very heroic thing at that age. Inall probability if you had kept out of things the trouble never would havehappened, and your meddling simply gave you a wound and a soft bed fora while. In my opinion you have had far more done for you than you everdeserved, and I want you to understand that so far as my daughter isconcerned the obligation is discharged. "

Michael had stood immovable while the cruel woman uttered her harangue, hiseyes growing wide with wonder and dark with a kind of manly shame for heras she went on. When she paused for a moment she saw his face was white andstill like a statue, but there was something in the depth of his eyes thatheld her in check. 

With the utmost calm, and deference, although his voice rang with honestindignation, Michael spoke:

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Endicott, " he said, his tone clear andattention-demanding, "I have never felt that there was the slightestobligation resting upon any of this family for the trifling matter thatoccurred when, as you say, I was a child. I feel that the obligation isentirely the other way, of course, but I cannot understand what you mean. How is my coming here at Mr. Endicott's invitation an impertinence?"

The woman looked at him contemptuously as though it were scarcely worth thetrouble to answer him, yet there was something about him that demanded ananswer. 

"I suppose you are ignorant then, " she answered cuttingly, "as you seem tobe honest. I will explain. You are not fit company for my daughter. It isstrange that you do not see that for yourself! A child of the slums, withnothing but shame and disgrace for an inheritance, and brought up a pauper!How could you expect to associate on a level with a gentleman's daughter?If you have any respect for her whatever you should understand that it isnot for such as you to presume to call upon her and take her out riding. Itis commendable in you of course to have improved what opportunities havebeen given you, but it is the height of ingratitude in a dependent topresume upon kindness and take on the airs of an equal, and you might aswell understand first as last that you cannot do it. I simply will not haveyou here. Do you understand?"

Michael stood as if rooted to the floor, horror and dismay growing in hiseyes; and stupor trickling through his veins. For a minute he stood aftershe had ceased speaking, as though the full meaning of her words had beenslow to reach his consciousness. Yet outwardly his face was calm, and onlyhis eyes had seemed to change and widen and suffer as she spoke. Finallyhis voice came to him:

"Madam, I did not know, " he said in a stricken voice. "As you say, I amignorant. " Then lifting his head with that fine motion of challenge tothe world that was characteristic of him whenever he had to face a hardsituation, his voice rang clear and undaunted:

"Madam, I beg your pardon. I shall not offend this way again. It wasbecause I did not understand. I would not hurt your daughter in any way, for she has been the only beautiful thing that ever came into my life. ButI will never trouble her again. "

The bow with which he left her and marched past her into the hall and outof the great door where once his boy life had been freely laid down for herchild, could have been no more gracefully or dramatically effected if hehad been some great actor. It was natural, it was full of dignity andreproach, and it left the lady feeling smaller and meaner than she had everfelt in all of her rose-colored, velvet-lined existence. Somehow all thecontempt she had purposely prepared for the crushing of the lad, he hadsuddenly flung from him as a hated garment and walked from her presence, leaving it wrapped about herself. 

"Well, really!" she gasped at last when she realized that he was gone andher eloquence not half finished, "Well, really! What right had he to goaway like that without my permission. Impertinent to the end! One wouldsuppose he was a grand Duke. Such airs! I always told Delevan it was amistake to educate the masses. They simply don't know their place and willnot keep it. "

Nevertheless, the selfish woman was much shaken. Michael had made her feelsomehow as if she had insulted a saint or a supernal being. She could notforget how the light had sifted through his wonderful hair and glintedthrough the depths of his great eyes, as he spoke those last words, and sheresented the ease with which he had left her presence. It had been too muchlike the going of a victor, and not like one crushed back into his naturalplace. She was cross all day in consequence. 

Starr meanwhile was lingering upstairs waiting for Michael. She had beenpurposely kept busy in a distant room at the back of the house by hermother, and was not told of his coming. As an hour went by beyond theappointed time she grew restless and disappointed; and then annoyed andalmost angry that he should have so easily forgotten her; but she didnot tell her mother, and the old Scotch nurse who would have been herconfidante had been sent on an errand to another part of the city. 

Thus, as the days went by, and Michael came no more to the house, the girlgrew to think he did not want to come, and her slight disappointment andmortification were succeeded by a haughty resentment, for her mother'steaching had not been without some result in her character. 

Michael had gone into the door of the Endicott mansion a boy with a lightheart and a happy vision of the future. He came out from there an hourlater, a man, with a heavy burden on his heart, and a blank vision of thefuture. So much had the woman wrought. 

As he walked from the house his bright head drooped, and his spirit wastroubled within him. He went as one in a terrible dream. His face had thelook of an angel newly turned out of paradise and for no fault of his own;an angel who bowed to the Supreme mandate, but whose life was crushedwithin him. People looked at him strangely, and wondered as they passedhim. It was as if Sorrow were embodied suddenly, and looking througheyes intended for Love. For the first time Michael, beloved of all hiscompanions for his royal unselfishness, was thinking of himself. 

Yet even so there was no selfishness in his thought. It was only as if thatwhich had always given him life and the breath of gladness had suddenlybeen withdrawn from him, and left him panting, gasping in a wide andunexpected emptiness. 

Somehow he found his way to his room and locked the door. 

Then the great spirit gave way and he flung himself upon the bed in supremeexhaustion. He seemed not to have another atom of strength left wherewith, to move or think or even breathe consciously. All his physical powershad oozed away and deserted him, now in this great crisis when life'sfoundations were shaken to their depths and nothing seemed to be any more. He could not think it over or find a way out of the horror, he could onlylie and suffer it, fact by fact, as it came and menaced him, slowly, cruelly throughout that length of day. 

Gradually it became distinct and separated itself into thoughts so that hecould follow it, as if it were the separate parts of some great dragon cometo twine its coils about him and claw and crush and strangle the soul ofhim. 

First, there was the fact like a great knife which seemed to have severedsoul from body, the fact that he might not see Starr, or have aught to dowith her any more. So deeply had this interdiction taken hold upon him thatit seemed to him in his agitation he might no longer even think of her. 

Next, following in stern and logical sequence, came the reason for thissevering of soul from all it knew and loved; the fact of his lowly birth. Coming as it did, out of the blue of a trustful life that had neverquestioned much about his origin but had sunnily taken life as a gift, and thought little about self; with the bluntness and directness of anun-lovingkindness, it had seemed to cut and back in every direction, allthat was left of either soul or body, so that there came no hope of evercatching things together again. 

That was the way it came over and over again as the boy without a friend inthe whole wide world to whom he could turn in his first great trouble, layand took it. 

Gradually out of the blackness he began to think a little; think back tohis own beginning. Who was he? What was he? For the first time in his life, though he knew life more than most of the boys with whom he had associated, the thought of shame in connection with his own birth came to him, andburrowed and scorched its way into his soul. 

He might have thought of such a possibility before perhaps, had not hisvery youngest years been hedged about by a beautiful fancy that sprang fromthe brain of an old Irish woman in the slums, whose heart was wide as herways were devious, and who said one day when little Mikky had run her anerrand, "Shure, an' then Mikky, yer an angel sthraight frum hiven an' nomisthake. Yer no jest humans like the rist av us; ye must av dhropped doonfrum the skoy. " And from that it had gone forth that Mikky was the child ofthe sky, and that was why no one knew who were his parents. 

The bit of a fancy had guarded the boy's weird babyhood, and influencedmore than he knew his own thought of existence, until life grew too full tothink much on it. 

Out of the darkness and murk of the slums the soul of Mikky had climbedhigh, and his ambitions reached up to the limitless blue above him. It hadnever occurred to him once that there might be an embargo put upon hisupward movements. He had taken all others to be as free hearted andgenerous as himself. Heir of all things, he had breathed the atmosphere ofculture as though it were his right. Now, he suddenly saw that he had nobusiness climbing. He had been seized just as he was about to mount aglorious height from which he was sure other heights were visible, when arude hand had brushed him back and dropped him as though he had been somecrawling reptile, down, down, down, at the very bottom of things. And theworst of all was that he might not climb back. He might look up, he mightknow the way up again, but the honor in him--the only bit of the heights hehad carried back to the foot with him--forbade him to climb to the dizzyheights of glory, for they belonged to others: those whom fortune favored, and on whose escutcheon there was no taint of shame. 

And why should it be that some souls should be more favored than others?What had he, for instance, to do with his birth? He would not have chosenshame, if shame there was. Yet shame or not he was branded with it for lifebecause his origin was enveloped in mystery. The natural conclusion wasthat sin had had its part. 

Then through the boy's mind there tumbled a confusion of questions all moreor less unanswerable, in the midst of which he slept. 

He seemed to have wandered out into the open again with the pines he lovedabove him, and underneath the springy needles with their slippery resinoussoftness; and he lay looking up into the changeless blue that covered allthe heights, asking all the tumultuous questions that throbbed through hisheart, asking them of God. 

Silently the noises of the city slunk away and dropped into the ceaselesscalm of the southland he had left. The breeze fanned his cheek, thepines whispered, and a rippling bird song touched his soul with peace. Aquietness came down upon his troubled spirit, and he was satisfied to takethe burden that had been laid him and to bear it greatly. The peace wasupon him when he awoke, far into the next morning. 

The hot June sun streamed into his stuffy room and fell aslant the bed. Hewas sodden and heavy with the heat and the oppression of his garments. Hishead ached, and he felt as nearly ill as he had ever felt in his life. Thespectre of the day before confronted him in all its torturing baldness, buthe faced it now and looked it squarely in the eyes. It was not conqueredyet, not by any means. The sharp pain of its newness was just as great, andthe deep conviction was still there that it was because of wrong that thisburden was laid upon him, but there was an adjustment of his soul to theinevitable that there had not been at first. 

The boy lay still for a few minutes looking out upon a new life in whicheverything had to be readjusted to the idea of himself and his newlimitations. Heretofore in his mind there had been no height that was nothis for the climbing. Now, the heights were his, but he would not climbbecause the heights themselves might be marred by his presence. It waswrong, it was unfair, that things should be so; but they were so, and aslong as Sin and Wrong were in the world they would be so. 

He must look upon life as he had looked upon every contest through hiseducation. There were always things to be borne, hard things, but that onlymade the conquest greater. He must face this thing and win. 

And what had he lost that had been his before? Not the beautiful girl whohad been the idol of his heart all these years. She was still there, aliveand well, and more beautiful than ever. His devotion might yet standbetween her and harm if need arose. True, he had lost the hope ofcompanionship with her, but that had been the growth of a day. He had neverhad much of it before, nor expected it when he came North. It would havebeen a glory and a joy beyond expression, but one could live without thosethings and be true. There was some reason for it all somewhere in theinfinite he was sure. 

It was not like the ordinary boy to philosophize in this way, but Michaelhad never been an ordinary boy. Ever his soul had been open to thegreatness of the universe and sunny toward the most trying surroundings. Hehad come out of the hardest struggle his soul had yet met, but he had comeout a man. There were lines about his pleasant mouth that had not beenthere the day before, which spoke of strength and self-control. There werenew depths in his eyes as of one who had looked down, and seen thingsunspeakable, having to number himself with the lowly. 

A new thought came to him while he lay there trying to take in the changethat had come to him. The thought of his childhood companions, the littlewaifs like himself who came from the offscourings of the earth. They hadloved him he knew. He recalled slowly, laboriously, little incidents fromhis early history. They were dim and uncertain, many of them, but littlekindnesses stood out. A bad out on his foot once and how Buck had bathed itand bound it up in dirty rags, doing double duty with the newspapers forseveral days to save his friend from stepping. There was a bitter coldnight way back as far as he could remember when he had had bad luck, andcame among the others supperless and almost freezing. Buck had shared acrust and found a warm boiler-room where they crawled out of sight andslept. There were other incidents, still more blurred in his memory, butenough to recall how loyal the whole little gang had been to him. Hesaw once more their faces when they heard he was going away to college;blanched with horror at the separation, lighting with pleasure when hepromised to return!

The years, how they had changed and separated! Where were they, these whoreally belonged to him; who were his rightful companions? What had theyears done to them? And he had a duty toward them unperformed. How was itthat he had been in the city all these hours and not even thought of goingto look for those loyal souls who had stood by him so faithfully whenthey were all mere babies? He must go at once. He had lost his head overattempting to reach things that were not for him, and this shock had cometo set him straight. 

Gravely he rose at last, these thoughts surging through his brain. 

The heat, the stifling air of the room, his recent struggling and theexhausting stupor made him reel dizzily as he got up, but his mettle was upnow and he set his lips and went about making himself neat. He longed for adip in the crystal waters of the little lake at college. The tiny wash-bowlof his room proved a poor substitute with its tepid water and diminutivetowel. 

He went out and breakfasted carefully as if it were a duty, and then, withhis map in his pocket, started out to find his old haunts. 

CHAPTER VIII

Thirteen years in New York had brought many changes. Some of thewell-remembered landmarks were gone and new buildings in their places. Aprosperous looking saloon quite palatial in its entrance marked the cornerwhere he used to sell papers. It used to be a corner grocery store. Saloons! Always and everywhere there were saloons! Michael looked at themwonderingly. He had quite forgotten them in his exile, for the collegeinfluence had barred them out from its vicinity. 

The boy Mikky had been familiar enough with saloons, looking upon them as anecessary evil, where drinking fathers spent the money that ought to havebought their children food. He had been in and out of them commonly enoughselling his papers, warming his feet, and getting a crust now and then froman uneaten bit on the lunch counter. Sometimes there had been glasses todrain, but Mikky with his observing eyes had early decided that he wouldhave none of the stuff that sent men home to curse their little children. 

College influence, while there had been little said on the subject, hadfilled the boy with horror for saloons and drunkards. He stood appallednow as he turned at last into an alley where familiar objects, doorsteps, turnings, cellars, met his gaze, with grog shops all along the way andsentinelling every corner. 

A strange feeling came over him as memory stirred by long-forgotten sightsawoke. Was this really the place, and was that opening beyond the thirdsteps the very blind alley where Janie used to live? Things were so muchdirtier, so much, worse in every way than he remembered them. 

He hurried on, not noticing the attention he was attracting from thewretched little children in the gutters, though he scanned them alleagerly, hurriedly, with the, wild idea that Buck and the rest might beamong them. 

Yes, the alley was there, dark and ill-smelling as ever, and in its dimrecesses on a dirty step a woman's figure hunched; a figure he knew at oncethat he had seen before and in that very spot. Who was she? What had theycalled her? Sally? Aunt Sal?

He hurried up to where she sat looking curiously, apathetically at him; hergray hair straggling down on her dirty cotton frock open at the neck overshrivelled yellow skin; soiled old hands hanging carelessly over slatternlygarments; stockingless feet stuck into a great tattered pair of men'sshoes. Nothing seemed changed since he saw her last save that the hair hadbeen black then, and the skin not so wrinkled. Aunt Sally had been goodnatured always, even when she was drunk; her husband, when he came home wasalways drunk also, but never good natured. These things came back to theboy as he stood looking down at the wreck of a woman before him. 

The bleary eyes looked up unknowing, half resentful of his intrusion. 

"Aunt Sally!" impulsively cried the boyish voice. "Aren't you Aunt Sally?"

The woman looked stupidly surprised. 

"I be, " she said thickly, "but wot's that to yous? I beant no hant o'yourn. "

"Don't you remember Mikky?" he asked almost anxiously, for now the feelinghad seized him that he must make her remember. He must find out if he couldwhether anything was known of his origin. Perhaps she could help him. Perhaps, after all, he might be able to trace his family, and find at leastno disgrace upon him. 

"Mikky!" the woman repeated dully. She shook her head. 

"Mikky!" she said again stolidly, "Wot's Mikky?"

"Don't you remember Mikky the little boy that sold papers and brought youwater sometimes? Once you gave me a drink of soup from your kettle. Think!"

A dim perception came into the sodden eyes. 

"Thur wus a Mikky long ago, " she mused. "He had hair like a h'angel, blessthe sweet chile; but he got shot an' never come back. That war long ago. "

Michael took off his hat and the little light in the dark alley seemed tocatch and tangle in the gleam of his hair. 

The old woman started as though she had seen a vision. 

"The saints presarve us!" she cried aghast, shrinking back into her doorwaywith raised hands, "an' who be yez? Yeh looks enough like the b'y to be thefather of 'im. He'd hair loike the verra sunshine itself. Who be yez? Spakequick. Be ye man, b'y, er angel?"

There was something in the woman's tone that went to the heart of thelonely boy, even while he recoiled from the repulsive creature before him. 

"I am just Mikky, the boy, grown a little older, " he said gently, "and I'vecome back to see the place where I used to live, and find the people I usedto know. "

"Y've lost yer way thin fer shure!" said the woman slightly recovering herequilibrium. "The loikes uv yous nivver lived in dis place; fer ef yousain't angel you's gintulmun; an' no gintulmun ivver cum from the loikes o'this. An' besoides, the b'y Mikky, I tel'd yez, was shot an' nivver comedback no more. He's loikely up wid de angels where he b'longs. "

"Yes, I was shot, " said Michael, "but I wasn't killed. A good man sent meto college, and I've just graduated and come back to look up my friends. "

"Frinds, is it, ye'll be afther a findin'? Thin ye'd bist look ilsewhar, fer thur's no one in this alley fit to be frinds with the loikes uv you. Efthat's wot they does with b'ys at co-lidge a pity 'tis more uv um can't gitshot an' go there. But ef all yous tell is thrue, moi advice to yez is, juist bate it as hoird as ivver yez kin out'n yere, an' don't yez nivverset oies on this alley agin. Ye'd better stay to co-lidge all the days uvyer loife than set fut here agin, fer juist let 'em got holt uv yez an'they'll spile the pretty face uv ye. Look thar!" she pointed tragicallytoward a wreck of humanity that reeled into the alley just then. "Wouldyez loike to be loike that? My mon come home loike that ivvery day of hisloife, rist his bones, an' he nivver knowed whin he died. "

Maudlin tears rolled down the poor creature's cheeks, for they could be notears of affection. Her man's departure from this life could have beenbut a relief. Michael recoiled from the sight with a sickening sadness. Nevertheless he meant to find out if this woman knew aught of his oldfriends, or of his origin. He rallied his forces to answer her. 

"I don't have to be like that, " he said, "I've come down to look up myfriends I tell you, and I want you to tell me if you know anything about myparents. Did you ever hear anything about me? Did anybody know who I was orhow I came to be here?"

The old woman looked at him only half comprehending, and tried to gatherher scattered faculties, but she shook her grizzled head hopelessly. 

"I ain't niver laid oies on yea before, an' how cud I know whar yez cumfrom, ner how yez cam to be here?" she answered. 

He perceived that it would require patience to extract information fromthis source. 

"Try to think, " he said more gently. "Can you remember if anyone everbelonged to the little boy they called Mikky? Was there ever any mother orfather, or--anybody that belonged to him at all. "

Again, she shook her head. 

"Niver as Oi knows on. They said he just comed a wee babby to the coourta wanderin' with the other childer, with scarce a rag to his back, an' asmile on him like the arch-angel, and some said as how he niver had nofather ner mother, but dthrapped sthraight frum the place where de angelslive. "

"But did no one take care of him, or ever try to find out about him?"questioned Michael wistfully. 

"Foind out, is it? Whist! An' who would tak toime to foind out whin ther'sso miny uv their own. Mikky was allus welcome to a bite an' a sup ef any uvus had it by. There wuz old Granny Bane with the rheumatiks. She gave him abed an' a bite now an' agin, till she died, an afther that he made out toshift fer hisse'f. He was a moighty indepindint babby. "

"But had he no other name? Mikky what? What was his whole name?"pursued Michael with an eagerness that could not give up the sought-forinformation. 

The old woman only stared stupidly. 

"Didn't he have any other name?" There was almost despair in his tone. 

Another shake of the head. 

"Juist Mikky!" she said and her eyes grew dull once more. 

"Can you tell me if there are any other people living here now that used toknow Mikky? Are there any other men or women who might remember?"

"How kin Oi tell?" snarled the woman impatiently. "Oi can't be bothered. "

Michael stood in troubled silence and the woman turned her head to watch aneighbor coming down the street with a basket in her hand. It would seemthat her visitor interested her no longer. She called out some rough, ribaldry to the woman who glanced up fiercely and deigned no further reply. Then Michael tried again. 

"Could you tell me of the boys who used to go with Mikky?"

"No, Oi can't, " she answered crossly, "Oi can't be bothered. Oi don't knowwho they was. "

"There was Jimmie and Sam and Bobs and Buck. Surely you remember Buck, andlittle Janie. Janie who died after Mikky went away?"

The bleared eyes turned full upon him again. 

"Janie? Fine Oi remimber Janie. They had a white hurse to her, foiner'n anyiver cum to the coourt before. The b'ys stayed up two noights selling togit the money fur it, an' Buck he stayed stiddy while she was aloive. Pityshe doied. "

"Where is Buck?" demanded Michael with a sudden twinging of his heartstrings that seemed to bring back the old love and loyalty to his friend. Buck had needed him perhaps all these years and he had not known. 

"That's whot the _po_lice would like fer yez to answer, I'm thinkin'!"laughed old Sal. "They wanted him bad fer breakin' into a house an' mos'killin' the lady an' gittin' aff wid de jewl'ry. He beat it dat noight an'ain't none o' us seen him these two year. He were a slick one, he wereawful smart at breakin' an' stealin'. Mebbe Jimmie knows, but Jimmie, he'sin jail, serving his time fer shootin' a man in the hand durin' a dhrunkenfight. Jimmie, he's no good. Never wuz. He's jest like his foither. Bobs, he got both legs cut aff, bein' runned over by a big truck, and he doied inthe horspittle. Bobs he were better dead. He'd uv gone loike the rist. Sam, he's round these parts mostly nights. Ye'll hev to come at noight ef yezwant to see him. Mebbe he knows more 'bout Buck'n he'll tell. "

Sick at heart Michael put question, after question but no more informationwas forthcoming and the old woman showed signs of impatience again. Carefully noting what she said about Sam and getting a few facts as to thebest time and place to find him Michael turned and walked sadly out of thealley. He did not see the alert eyes of old Sal following him, nor the keenexpression of her face as she stretched her neck to see which way he turnedas he left the alley. As soon as he was out of sight she shuffled downfrom her doorstep to the corner and peered after him through the morningsunshine. Then she went slowly, thoughtfully back to her doorstep. 

"Now whut in the divil could he be a wantin' wid Buck an' Sammie?" shemuttered to herself. "All that story 'bout his bein' Mikky was puttin' iton my eye, I'll giv warnin' to Sammie this night, an' ef Buck's in thesepairts he better git out west some'res. The _po_lice uv got onto 'im. Buthoiwiver did they know he knowed Mikky? Poor little angel Mikky! I guv himthe shtraight about Bobs an' Jimmie, fer they wuz beyant his troublin' buthe'll niver foind Sammie from the directin' I sayed. "

Michael, sorrowing, horror-filled, conscience-stricken, took his way to arestaurant and ate his dinner, thinking meanwhile what he could do forthe boys. Could he perhaps visit Jimmie in prison and make his life morecomfortable in little ways? Could he plan something for him when he shouldcome out? Could he help Sam? The old woman had said little about Sam'scondition. Michael thought he might likely by this time have built up anice little business for himself. Perhaps he had a prosperous news stand insome frequented place. He looked forward eagerly to meeting him again. Samhad always been a silent child dependent on the rest, but he was one of thelittle gang and Michael's heart warmed toward his former comrade. It couldnot be that he would find him so loathsome and repulsive as the old womanSal. She made him heart-sick. Just to think of drinking soup from her dirtykettle! How could he have done it? And yet, he knew no better life then, and he was hungry, and a little child. 

So Michael mused, and all the time with a great heart-hunger to know whathad become of Buck. Could he and Sam together plan some way to find Buckand help him out of his trouble? How could Buck have done anything sodreadful? And yet even as he thought it he remembered that "pinching" hadnot been a crime in his childhood days, not unless one was found out. Howhad these principles, or lack of principles been replaced gradually in hisown life without his realizing it at all? It was all strange and wonderful. Practically now he, Michael, had been made into a new creature since heleft New York, and so gradually, and pleasantly that he had not at allrealized the change that was going on in him. 

Yet as he thought and marvelled there shot through him a thought like apang, that perhaps after all it had not been a good thing, this making himinto a new creature, with new desires and aims and hopes that could neverbe fulfilled. Perhaps he would have been happier, better off, if he hadnever been taken out of that environment and brought to appreciate sokeenly another one where he did not belong, and could never stay, sincethis old environment was the one where he must stay whether he would or no. He put the thought from him as unworthy at once, yet the sharpness of thepang lingered and with it a vision of Starr's vivid face as he had seen hertwo nights before in her father's home, before he knew that the door ofthat home was shut upon him forever. 

Michael passed the day in idly wandering about the city trying to piecetogether his old knowledge, and the new, and know the city in which he hadcome to dwell. 

It was nearing midnight, when Michael, by the advice of old Sal, andutterly fearless in his ignorance, entered the court where his babyhood hadbeen spent. 

The alley was dark and murky with the humidity of the summer night; butunlike the morning hours it was alive with a writhing, chattering, fightingmass of humanity. Doorways were overflowing. The narrow alley itself seemedfairly thronging with noisy, unhappy men and women. Hoarse laughs mingledwith rough cursing, shot through with an occasional scream. Stifling odorslurked in cellar doorways and struck one full in the face unawares. Cursesseemed to be the setting for all conversation whether angry or jolly. Babies tumbled in the gutter and older children fought over some scrap ofgarbage. 

Appalled, Michael halted and almost turned back. Then, remembering thatthis was where he had come from, --where he belonged, --and that his duty, his obligation, was to find hie friends, he went steadily forward. 

There sat old Sal, a belligerent gleam in her small sodden eyes. Four menon a step opposite, with a candle stood between them, were playing cards. Sal muttered a word as Michael approached and the candle was suddenlyextinguished. It looked as if one had carelessly knocked it down to thepavement, but the glare nickered into darkness and Michael could no longersee the men's faces. He had wondered if one of them was Sam. But when herubbed his eyes and looked again in the darkness the four men were gone andthe step was occupied by two children holding a sleeping baby between themand staring at him in open mouthed admiration. 

The flickering weird light of the distant street lamps, the noise andconfusion, the odors and curses filled him anew with a desire to flee, buthe would not let himself turn back. Never had Michael turned from anythingthat was his duty from fear or dislike of anything. 

He tried to enter into conversation with old Sal again, but she would havenone of him. She had taken "a wee drapth" and was alert and suspicious. Infact, the whole alley was on the alert for this elegant stranger who wasnone of theirs, and who of course could have come but to spy on some one. He wanted Sam, therefore Sam was hidden well and at that moment playing acrafty game in the back of a cellar on the top of an old beer barrel, bythe light of a wavering candle; well guarded by sentinels all alongthe difficult way. Michael could have no more found him under thosecircumstances than he could have hoped to find a needle in a haystack thesize of the whole city of New York. 

He wandered for two hours back and forth through the alley seeing sightslong since forgotten, hearing words unspeakable; following out this andthat suggestion of the interested bystanders; always coming back withoutfinding Sam. He had not yet comprehended the fact that he was not intendedto find Sam. He had taken these people into his confidence just as he hadalways taken everyone into his confidence, and they were playing him false. If they had been the dwellers on Fifth Avenue he would not have expectedthem to be interested in him and his plans and desires; but these were hisvery own people, at least the "ownest" he had in the world, and among themhe had once gone freely, confidently. He saw no reason why they should havechanged toward him, though he felt the antagonism in the atmosphere as thenight wore on, even as he had felt it in the Endicott house the day before. 

Heartsick and baffled at last he took his way slowly, looking back manytimes, and leaving many messages for Sam. He felt as if he simply couldnot go hack to even so uncomfortable a bed an he called his own in his newlodgings without having found some clew to his old comrades. 

Standing at the corner of the alley opposite the flaunting lights of thesaloon he looked back upon the swarming darkness of the alley and his heartfilled with a great surging wave of pity, love, and sorrow. Almost at hisfeet in a dark shadow of a doorway a tiny white-faced boy crouched fastasleep on the stone threshold. It made him think of little Bobs, and hisown barren childhood, and a mist came before his eyes as he looked up, upat the sky where the very stars seemed small and far away as if the sky hadnothing to do with this part of the earth. 

"Oh, God!" he said under his breath. "Oh, God! I must do something forthem!"

And then as if the opportunity came with the prayer there reeled into viewa little group of people, three or four men and a woman. 

The woman was talking in a high frightened voice and protesting. The mencaught hold of her roughly, laughing and flinging out coarse jests. Thenanother man came stealing from the darkness of the alley and joined thegroup, seizing the woman by the shoulders and speaking words to her toovile for repetition. In terrible fear the girl turned, for Michael couldsee, now that she was nearer, that she was but a young girl, and that shewas pretty. Instantly he thought of Starr and his whole soul rose in mightywrath that any man should dare treat any girl as he had seen these do. Thenthe girl screamed and struggled to get away, crying: "It ain't true, itain't true! Lem'me go! I won't go with you--"

Instantly Michael was upon them, his powerful arms and supple body dashingthe men right and left. And because of the suddenness of the attack comingfrom this most unexpected quarter, --for Michael had stood somewhat in theshadow--and because of the cowardliness of all bullies, for the moment hewas able to prevail against all four, just long enough for the girl to sliplike a wraith from their grasp and disappear into the shadows. 

Then when the men, dazed from surprise, though not seriously hurt, discovered that their prey was gone and that a stranger from the higherwalks of life had frustrated their plans they fell upon him in their wrath. 

Michael brave always, and well trained in athletics, parried their blowsfor an instant, but the man, the one who had come from the shadows ofthe alley, whose face was evil, stole up behind and stabbed him in theshoulder. The sudden faintness that followed made him less capable ofdefending himself. He felt he was losing his senses, and the next blow fromone of the men sent him reeling into the street where he fell heavily, striking his head against the curbing. There was a loud cry of murder froma woman's shrill voice, the padded rush of the villains into their holes, the distant ring of a policeman's whistle, and then all was quiet as a citynight could be. Michael lay white and still with his face looking up to thefaint pitying moon so far away and his beautiful hair wet with the bloodthat was flowing out on the pavement. There he lay on the edge of the worldthat was his own and would not own him. He had come to his own and his ownreceived him not. 

CHAPTER IX

Michael awoke in the hospital with a bandage around his head and a stingingpain in his shoulder whenever he tried to move. 

Back in his inner consciousness there sounded the last words he heardbefore he fell, but he could not connect them with anything at first:

"Hit him again, Sam!"

Those were the words. What did they mean? Had he heard them or merelydreamed them? And where was he?

A glance about the long room with its rows of white beds each with anoccupant answered his question. He closed his eyes again to be away fromall those other eyes and think. 

Sam! He had been looking for Sam. Had Sam then come at last? Had Sam hithim? Had Sam recognized him? Or was it another Sam?

But there was something queer the matter with his head, and he could notthink. He put up his right arm to feel the bandage and the pain in hisshoulder stung again. Somehow to his feverish fancy it seemed the sting ofMrs. Endicott's words to him. He dropped his hand feebly and the nurse gavehim something in a spoon. Then half dreaming he fell asleep, with a visionof Starr's face as he had seen her last. 

Three weeks he lay upon that narrow white bed, and learned to face thebattalion of eyes from the other narrow beds around him; learned todistinguish the quiet sounds of the marble lined room from the rumble ofthe unknown city without; and when the nimble was the loudest his heartached with the thought of the alley and all the horrible sights and soundsthat seemed written in letters of fire across his spirit. 

He learned to look upon the quiet monotonous world of ministrations as ahaven from the world outside into which he must presently go; and in hisweakened condition he shrank from the new life. It seemed to be so filledwith disappointments and burdens of sorrow. 

But one night a man in his ward died and was carried, silent and coveredfrom the room. Some of his last moaning utterances had reached the ears ofhis fellow sufferers with a swift vision of his life and his home, and hismortal agony for the past, now that he was leaving it all. 

That night Michael could not sleep, for the court and the alley, and thewhole of sunken humanity were pressing upon his heart. It seemed to be hisburden that he must give up all his life's hopes to bear. And there he hadit out with himself and accepted whatever should come to be his duty. 

Meantime the wound on his head was healed, the golden halo had covered thescar, and the cut in his shoulder, which had been only a flesh, wound, wasdoing nicely. Michael, was allowed to sit up, and then to be about the roomfor a day or two. 

It was in those days of his sitting up when the sun which crept in for anhour a day reached and touched to flame his wonderful hair, that the othermen of the ward began to notice him. He seemed to them all as somehow setapart from the rest; one who was lifted above what held them down to sinand earth. His countenance spoke of strength and self-control, the twothings that many of those men lacked, either through constant sinning orthrough constant fighting with poverty and trouble, and so, as he began toget about they sent for him to come to their bedsides, and as they talkedone and another of them poured out his separate tale of sorrow and woe, till Michael felt he could bear no more. He longed for power, great powerto help; power to put these wretched men on their feet again to lead a newlife, power to crush some of the demons in human form who were grindingthem down to earth. Oh! for money and knowledge and authority!

Here was a man who had lost both legs in a defective machine he was runningin a factory. He was a skilled workman and had a wife and three littleones. But he was useless now at his trade. No one wanted a man with nolegs. He might better be dead. Damages? No, there was no hope of that. Hehad accepted three hundred dollars to sign a release. He had to. His wifeand children were starving and they must have the money then or perish. There was no other way. Besides, what hope had he in fighting a greatcorporation? He was a poor man, a stranger in this country, with nofriends. The company had plenty who were willing to swear it was the man'sown fault. 

Yonder was another who had tried to asphyxiate himself by turning on thegas in his wretched little boarding-house room because he had lost hisposition on account of ill health, and the firm wished to put a younger manin his place. He had almost succeeded in taking himself out of this life. 

Next him was one, horribly burned by molten metal which he had beencompelled to carry without adequate precautions, because it was a cheapermethod of handling the stuff and men cost less than machinery. You couldalways get more men. 

The man across from him was wasted away from insufficient food. He had beenout of work for months, and what little money he could pick up in odd jobshad gone mostly to his wife and children. 

And so it was throughout the ward. On almost every life sin, --somebody'ssin, --had left its mark. There were one or two cheery souls who, thoughpoor, were blest with friends and a home of some kind and were lookingforward to a speedy restoration; but these were the exception. Nearly allthe others blamed someone else for their unhappy condition and in nearlyevery case someone else was undoubtedly to blame, even though in most caseseach individual had been also somewhat responsible. 

All this Michael gradually learned, as he began his practical study ofsociology. As he learned story after story, and began to formulate thefacts of each he came to three conclusions: First, that there was not roomenough in the city for these people to have a fair chance at the great andbeautiful things of life. Second, that the people of the cities who hadthe good things were getting them all for themselves and cared not a strawwhether the others went without. Third, that somebody ought to be doingsomething about it, and why not he?

Of course it was absurd for a mere boy just out of college, with scarcelya cent to his name--and not a whole name to call his own--to think ofattempting to attack the great problem of the people single-handed; butstill he felt he was called to do it, and he meant to try. 

He hadn't an idea at this time whether anybody else had seen it justthis way or not. He had read a little of city missions, and charitableenterprises, but they had scarcely reached his inner consciousness. Hisimpression gathered from such desultory reading had been that the effortin that direction was sporadic and ineffective. And so, in his giganticignorance and egotism, yet with his exquisite sensitiveness to the inwardcall, Michael henceforth set himself to espouse the cause of the People. 

Was he not one of them? Had he not been born there that he might be one ofthem, and know what they had to suffer? Were they not his kindred so far ashe had any kindred? Had he not been educated and brought into contact withhigher things that he might know what these other human souls might be ifthey had the opportunity? If he had known a little more about the subjecthe would have added "and if they _would_. " But he did not; he supposed allsouls were as willing to be uplifted as he had been. 

Michael went out from the hospital feeling that his life work was beforehim. The solemn pledge he had taken as a little child to return and helphis former companions became a voluntary pledge of his young manhood. Heknew very little indeed about the matter, but he felt much, and he wasdetermined to do, wherever the way opened. He had no doubt but that the waywould open. 

"Now young man, take care of yourself, " said the doctor in parting fromhis patient a few days later, "and for the land's sake keep away from backalleys at night. When you know a little more about New York you'll learnthat it's best to keep just as far away from such places as possible. Don'tgo fooling around under the impression that you can convert any of thoseblackguards. They need to be blown up, every one of them, and the placeobliterated. Mind, I say, keep away from them. "

Michael smiled and thanked the doctor, and walked unsteadily down thehospital steps on feet that were strangely wobbly for him. But Michael didnot intend to obey the doctor. He had been turning the matter over in hismind and he had a plan. And that very night about ten o'clock he went backto the alley. 

Old Sal was sitting on her doorstep a little more intoxicated than the lasttime, and the young man's sudden appearance by her side startled her intoan Irish howl. 

"The saints presarve us!" she cried tottering to her feet. "He's cum backto us agin, sure he has! There's no killin' him! He's an angel shure. B'ysrin! bate it! bate it! The angel's here agin!"

There was a sound of scurrying feet and the place seemed to suddenly clearof the children that had been under foot. One or two scowling men, orcuriously apathetic women in whose eyes the light of life had died and beenleft unburied, peered from dark doorways. 

Michael stood quietly until the howling of Sal had subsided, and then hespoke in a clear tone. 

"Can you tell if Sam has been around here to-night? Is he anywhere nearhere now?"

There was no answer for a minute but some one growled out the informationthat he might and then he might not have been. Some one else said he hadjust gone away but they didn't know where. Michael perceived that it was agood deal as it had been before. 

"I have brought a message for him, a letter, " he said, and he spoke so thatanyone near-by might hear. "Will you give it to him when he comes. He willwant to see it, I am sure. It is important. I think he will be glad to getit. It contains good news about an old friend of his. "

He held out the letter courteously to old Sal, and she looked down at itswhite crispness as though it had been a message from the lower regions sentto call her to judgment. A letter, white, square-cornered and clean, withclear, firm inscription, had never come within her gaze before. Old Salhad never learned to read. The writing meant nothing to her, but the wholeletter represented a mystic communication from another world. 

Instinctively the neighbors gathered nearer to look at the letter, and Sal, seeing herself the centre of observation, reached forward a dirty handwrapped in a corner of her apron, and took the envelope as though it hadbeen hot, eyeing it all the while fearfully. 

Then with his easy bow and touching his hat to her as though she had been aqueen, Michael turned and walked away out of the alley. 

Old Sal stood watching him, a kind of wistful wonder in her bleary eyes. No gentleman had ever tipped his hat to her, and no man had ever done herreverence. From her little childhood she had been brought up to forfeit therespect of men. Perhaps it had never entered her dull mind before that shemight have been aught but what she was; and that men might have given herhonor. 

The neighbors too were awed for the moment and stood watching in silence, till when Michael turned the corner out of sight, Sal exclaimed:

"Now that's the angel, shure! No gintlemin would iver uv tipped his 'at tothe loikes of Sal. Saints presarve us! That we should hev an angel in thisalley!"

When Michael reached his lodging he found that he was trembling so fromweakness and excitement that he could scarcely drag himself up the threeflights to his room. So had his splendid strength been reduced by troubleand the fever that came with his wounds. 

He lay down weakly and tried to think. Now he had done his best to findSam. If Sam did not come in answer to his letter he must wait until hefound him. He would not give up. So he fell asleep with the burden on hisheart. 

The letter was as follows:

"Dear Sam:

"You can't have forgotten Mikky who slept with you in the boiler room, andwith whom you shared your crusts. You remember I promised when I went awayto college I would come back and try to make things better for you all? Andnow I have come and I am anxious to find the fellows and see what we can dotogether to make life better in the old alley and make up for some of thehard times when we were children. I have been down to the alley but can getno trace of you. I spent the best part of one night hunting you and then aslight accident put me in the hospital for a few days, but I am well nowand am anxious to find you all. I want to talk over old times, and find outwhere Buck and Jim are; and hear all about Janie and little Bobs. 

"I am going to leave this letter with Aunt Sally, hoping she will give itto you. I have given my address below and should be glad to have you comeand see me at my room, or if you would prefer I will meet you wherever yousay, and we will go together and have something to eat to celebrate. 

"Hoping to hear from you very soon, I am as always, "Your brother and friend, "MIKKY. 

"Address, Michael Endicott, No ---- West 23rd St. "

A few days later a begrimed envelope addressed in pencil was brought to thedoor by the postman. Michael with sinking heart opened it. It read:

"MiKY ef yo be reely hym cum to KelLys karner at 10 tumoroW nite. Ef youare mIK youz thee old whissel an doante bring no une wit yer Ef yO du Iwunt be thar. 

"SAM. "

Michael seated on his lumpy bed puzzled this out, word by word, until hemade fairly good sense of it. He was to go to Kelly's corner. How memorystirred at the words. Kelly's corner was beyond the first turn of thealley, it was at the extreme end of an alley within an alley, and hadno outlet except through Kelly's saloon. Only the "gang" knew the name, "Kelly's Corner, " for it was not really a corner at all only a sort ofpocket or hiding place so entitled by Buck for his own and "de kids"private purpose. If Michael had been at all inclined to be a coward sincehis recent hard usage in the vicinity of the alley he would have keptaway from Kelly's corner, for once in there with enemies, and alone, nopoliceman's club, nor hospital ambulance would ever come to help. Thethings that happened at Kelly's corner never got into the newspapers. 

Memory and instinct combined to make this perfectly dear to Michael's mind, and if he needed no other warning those words of the letter, "Don't bringno one with you. If you do, I won't be there, " were sufficient to make himwise. 

Yet Michael never so much as thought of not keeping the appointment. Hisbusiness was to find Sam, and it mattered as little to him now that dangerstood in the way as it had the day when he flung his neglected little bodyin front of Starr Endicott and saved her from the assassin's bullet. Hewould go, of course, and go alone. Neither did it occur to him to takethe ordinary precaution of leaving his name and whereabouts at the policestation to be searched for in case he did not turn up in reasonable time. It was all in the day's work and Michael thought no more about the possibleperil he was facing than he had thought of broken limbs and bloody nosesthe last hour before a football scrimmage. 

There was something else in the letter that interested Michael and stirredthe old memories. That old whistle! Of course he had not forgotten that, although he had not used it much among his college companions. It was astrange, weird, penetrating sound, between a call and whistle. He and Buckhad made it up between them. It was their old signal. When Michael went tocollege he had held it sacred as belonging strictly to his old friends, and never, unless by himself in the woods where none but the birds and thetrees could hear, had he let its echoes ring. Sometimes he had flung itforth and startled the mocking birds, and once he had let it ring into themidst of his astonished comrades in Florida when he was hidden from theirview and they knew not who had made the sound. He tried it now softly, andthen louder and louder, until with sudden fear he stopped lest his landladyshould happen to come up that way and think him insane. But undoubtedly hecould give the old signal. 

The next night at precisely ten o'clock Michael's ringing step sounded downthe alley; firm, decisive, secure. Such assurance must Daniel have worn ashe faced the den of lions; and so went the three Hebrew children into thefiery furnace. 

"It's him! It's the angel!" whispered old Sal who was watching. "Oi touldyez he'd come fer shure!"

"He's got his nerve with him!" murmured a girl with bold eyes and a coarsekind of beauty, as she drew further back into the shadow of the doorway. "He ain't comin' out again so pretty I guess. Not if Sam don't like. Mebbehe ain't comin' out 'tall!"

"Angels has ways, me darlint!" chuckled Sal. "He'll come back al roight, ye'll see!"

On walked Michael, down the alley to the narrow opening that to theuninitiated was not an opening between the buildings at all, and slipped inthe old way. He had thought it all out in the night. He was sure he knewjust how far beyond Sal's house it was; on into the fetid air of the closedark place, the air that struck him in the face like a hot, wet blanket ashe kept on. 

It was very still all about when he reached the point known as Kelly'scorner. It had not been so as he remembered it. It had been the place ofplots, the hatching of murders and robberies. Had it so changed that it wasstill to-night? He stood for an instant hesitating. Should he wait a while, or knock on some door? Would it be any use to call?

But the instinct of the slums was upon him again, his birthright. It seemedto drop upon him from the atmosphere, a sort of stealthy patience. He wouldwait. Something would come. He must do as he had done with the birds of theforest when he wished to watch their habits. He must stand still unafraidand show that he was harmless. 

So he stood three, perhaps five minutes, then softly at first and graduallygrowing clearer, he gave the call that he had given years before, a littlebarefoot, hungry child in that very spot many times. 

The echo died away. There was nothing to make him know that a group ofcurious alley-dwellers huddled at the mouth of the trap in which he stood, watching with eyes accustomed to the darkness, to see what would happen; toblock his escape if escape should be attempted. 

Then out of the silence a sigh seemed to come, and out of the shadows oneshadow unfolded itself and came forward till it stood beside him. StillMichael did not stir; but softly, through, half-open lips, breathed thesignal once more. 

Sibilant, rougher, with a hint of menace as it issued forth the signal wasanswered this time, and with a thrill of wonder the mantle of the old lifefell upon Michael once more. He was Mikky--only grown more wise. Almost theold vernacular came to his tongue. 

"Hi! Sam! That you?"

The figure in the darkness seemed to stiffen with sudden attention. Thevoice was like, and yet not like the Mikky of old. 

"Wot yous want?" questioned a voice gruffly. 

"I want you, Sam. I want to see if you look as you used to, and I want toknow about the boys. Can't we go where there's light and talk a little?I've been days hunting you. I've come back because I promised, you know. You expected me to come back some day, didn't you, Sam?"

Michael was surprised to find how eager he was for the answer to thisquestion. 

"Aw, what ye givin' us?" responded the suspicious Sam. "D'yous s'pose Ib'lieve all that gag about yer comin' here to he'p we'uns? Wot would a guylike yous wid all dem togs an' all dem fine looks want wid us? Yous has gotabove us. Yous ain't no good to us no more. "

Sam scratched a match on his trousers and lit an old pipe that he heldbetween his teeth, but as the match flared up and showed his own face alowering brow, shifty eyes, a swarthy, unkempt visage, sullen and sly, theshifty eyes were not looking at the pipe but up at the face above him whichshone out white and fine with its gold halo in the little gleam in the darkcourt. The watchers crowding at the opening of the passage saw his face, and almost fancied there were soft shadowy wings behind him. It was thuswith old Sal's help that Michael got his name again, "The Angel. " It wasthus he became the "angel of the alley. "

"Sam!" he said, and his voice was very gentle, although he was perfectlyconscious that behind him there were two more shadows of men and more mightbe lurking in the dark corners. "Sam, if you remember me you will know Icouldn't forget; and I do care. I came back to find you. I've always meantto come, all the time I was in college. I've had it in mind to come backhere and make some of the hard things easier for"--he hesitated, and--"for_us_ all. "

"How did yous figger yous was goin' to do that?" Sam asked, his littleshifty eyes narrowing on Michael, as he purposely struck another match towatch the effect of his words. 

Then Michael's wonderful smile lit up his face, and Sam, however much hemay have pretended to doubt, knew in his deepest heart that this was thesame Mikky of old. There was no mistaking that smile. 

"I shall need you to help me in figuring that out, Sam. That's why I was soanxious to find you. "

A curious grunt from behind Michael warned him that the audience was beingamused at the expense of Sam, Sam's brows were lowering. 

"Humph!" he said, ungraciously striking a third match just in time to watchMichael's face. "Where's yer pile?"

"What?"

"Got the dough?"

"Oh, " said Michael comprehendingly, "no, I haven't got money, Sam. I'veonly my education. "

"An' wot good's it, I'd like to know. Tell me those?"

"So much good that I can't tell it all in one short talk, " answered Michaelsteadily. "We'll have to get better acquainted and then I hope I can makeyou understand how it has helped. Now tell me about the others. Where isBuck?"

There was a dead silence. 

"It's hard to say!" at last muttered Sam irresponsibly. 

"Don't you know? Haven't you any kind of an idea, Sam? I'd so like to hunthim up. "

The question seemed to have produced a tensity in the very atmosphere, Michael felt it. 

"I might, an' then agin' I might not, " answered Sam in that tone of histhat barred the way for further questions. 

"Couldn't you and I find him and--and--help him, Sam? Aunt Sally said hewas in trouble. "

Another match was scratched and held close to his face while the narroweyes of Sam seemed to pierce his very soul before Sam answered with an uglylaugh. 

"Oh, he don't need none o' your help, you bet. He's lit out. You don't needto worry 'bout Buck, he kin take car' o' hisse'f every time. "

"But won't he come back sometime?"

"Can't say. It's hard to tell, " non-committally. 

"And Jim?" Michael's voice was sad. 

"Jim, he's doin' time, " sullenly. 

"I'm sorry!" said Michael sadly, and a strange hush came about the darkgroup. Now why should this queer chap be sorry? No one else cared, unlessit might be Jim, and Jim had got caught. It was nothing to them. 

"Now tell me about Janie--and little Bobs--" The questioner paused. Hisvoice was very low. 

"Aw, cut it out!" snarled Sam irritably. "Don't come any high strikes ontheir account. They're dead an' you can't dig 'em up an' weep over 'em. Hustle up an' tell us wot yer wantin' to do. "

"Well, Sam, " said Michael trying to ignore the natural repulsion he feltat the last words of his one-time friend, "suppose you take lunch with meto-morrow at twelve. Then we can talk over things and get back old times. I will tell you all about my college life and you must tell me all you aredoing. "

Sam was silent from sheer astonishment. Take lunch! Never in his life hadhe been invited out to luncheon. Nor had he any desire for an invitationnow. 

"Where?" he asked after a silence so long that Michael began to fear he wasnot going to answer at all. 

Michael named a place not far away. He had selected it that morning. It wasclean, somewhat, yet not too clean. The fare was far from princely, but itwould do, and the locality was none too respectable. Michael was enoughof a slum child still to know that his guest would never go with him to areally respectable restaurant, moreover he would not have the wardrobe northe manners. He waited Sam's answer breathlessly. 

Sam gave a queer little laugh as if taken off his guard. The place namedwas so entirely harmless, to his mind, and the whole matter of theinvitation took on the form of a great joke. 

"Well, I might, " he drawled indifferently. "I won't make no promises, butI might, an' then again I might not. It's jes' as it happens. Ef I ain'tthere by twelve sharp you needn't wait. Jes' go ahead an' eat. I wouldn'twant to spoil yer digestion fer my movements. "

"I shall wait!" said Michael decidedly with his pleasant voice ringingclear with satisfaction. "You will come, Sam, I know you will. Good night!"

And then he did a most extraordinary thing. He put out his hand, his clean, strong hand, warm and healthy and groping with the keenness of low, foundthe hardened grimy hand of his one-time companion, and gripped it in ahearty grasp. 

Sam started back with the instant suspicion of attack, and then stoodshamedly still for an instant. The grip of that firm, strong hand, thetouch of brotherhood, a touch such as had never come to his life beforesince he was a little child, completed the work that the smile had begun, and Sam knew that Mikky, the real Mikky was before him. 

Then Michael walked swiftly down that narrow passage, --at the opening ofwhich, the human shadows scattered silently and fled, to watch from otherfurtive doorways, --down through the alley unmolested, and out into thestreet once more. 

"The saints presarve us! Wot did I tell yez?" whispered Sal. "It's theangel all right fer shure. "

"I wonder wot he done to Sam, " murmured the girl. "He's got his nerve allright, he sure has. Ain't he beautiful!"

CHAPTER X

Michael went early to his lunch party. He was divided between wondering ifhis strange guest would put in an appearance at all; if he did, what heshould talk about; and how he would pilot him through the embarrassingexperience of the meal. One thing he was determined upon. He meant to findout if possible whether Sam knew anything about his, Michael's, origin. It was scarcely likely; and yet, Sam might have heard some talk by olderpeople in the neighborhood. His one great longing was to find out and clearhis name of shame if possible. 

There was another thing that troubled Michael. He was not sure that hewould know Sam even supposing that he came. The glimpse he had caughtthe night before when the matches were struck was not particularlyilluminating. He had a dim idea that Sam was below the medium height; withthin, sallow face; small, narrow eyes; a slouching gait; and a head thatwas not wide enough from front to back. He had a feeling that Sam had notroom enough in his brain for seeing all that ought to be seen. Sam did notunderstand about education. Would he ever be able to make him understand?

Sam came shuffling along ten minutes after twelve. His sense of dignitywould not have allowed him to be on time. Besides, he wanted to see ifMichael would wait as he had said. It was a part of the testing of Michael;not to prove if he were really Mikky, but to see what stuff he was made of, and how much he really had meant of what he said. 

Michael was there, standing anxiously outside the eating house. He did notenjoy the surroundings nor the attention he was attracting. He was too welldressed for that locality, but these were the oldest clothes he had. Hewould have considered them quite shabby at college. He was getting worriedlest after all his plan had failed. Then Sam slouched along, his hat drawndown, his hands in his pockets, and wearing an air of indifference thatalmost amounted to effrontery. He greeted Michael as if there had been noprevious arrangement and this were a chance meeting. There was nothingabout his manner to show that he had purposely come late to put him to thetest, but Michael knew intuitively it was so. 

"Shall we go in now?" said Michael smiling happily. He found he was reallyglad that Sam had come, repulsive in appearance though he was, hard ofcountenance and unfriendly in manner. He felt that he was getting on just alittle in his great object of finding out and helping his old friends, andperhaps learning something more of his own history. 

"Aw, I donno's I care 'bout it!" drawled Sam, just as if he had notintended going in all the time, nor had been thinking of the "feed" all themorning in anticipation. 

"Yes, you better, " said Michael putting a friendly hand on the others'shoulder. If he felt a repugnance to touching the tattered, greasy coat ofhis one-time friend, he controlled it, remembering how he had once worngarments far more tattered and filthy. The greatness of his desire touplift made him forget everything else. It was the absorption of a supremetask that had come upon the boy to the exclusion of his own personaltastes. 

It was not that Michael was so filled with love for this miserable creaturewho used to be his friend, nor so desired to renew old associations afterthese long years of separation; it was the terrible need, the conditionsof which had been called vividly to his experience, that appealed to hisspirit like a call of authority to which he answered proudly becauseof what had once been done for him. It had come upon him without hisknowledge, suddenly, with the revival of old scenes and memories, but aswith all workers for humanity it had gone so deeply into his soul as tomake him forget even that there was such a thing as sacrifice. 

They passed into the restaurant. Michael in his well-made clothing and withhis strikingly handsome face and gold hair attracting at once every eyein the place: Sam with an insolent air of assurance to cover a suddenembarrassment of pride at the company he was in. 

Michael gave a generous order, and talked pleasantly as they waited. Samsat in low-browed silence watching him furtively, almost disconcertingly. 

It was when they had reached the course of three kinds of pie and a dabof dirty looking, pink ice cream professing to be fresh strawberry, thatMichael suddenly looked keenly at his guest and asked:

"What are you doing now, Sam? In business for yourself?"

Sam's eyes narrowed until they were almost eclipsed, though a keen steelglitter could be seen beneath the colorless lashes. A kind of mask, impenetrable as lead, seemed to have settled over his face, which had beengradually relaxing during the meal into a half indulgent grin of interestin his queer host. 

"Yas, I'm in business fer myself, " he drawled at last after carefullyscrutinizing the other's face to be sure there was no underlying motive forthe question. 

"News-stand?" asked Michael. 

"Not eggs-act-ly!"

"What line?"

Sam finished his mince pie and began on the pumpkin before he answered. 

"Wal, ther's sev'ral!"

"Is that so? Got more than one string to your bow? That's a good thing. You're better off than I am. I haven't looked around for a job yet. Ithought I'd get at it to-morrow. You see I wanted to look you fellows upfirst before I got tied down to anything where I couldn't get off when Iwanted to. Perhaps you can put me onto something. How about it?"

It was characteristic of Michael that he had not once thought of going toEndicott for the position and help offered him, since the setting downhe had received from Mrs. Endicott. The time appointed for his going toEndicott's office was long since passed. He had not even turned the matterover in his mind once since that awful night of agony and renunciation. Mrs. Endicott had told him that her husband "had done enough for him" andhe realized that this was true. He would trouble him no more. Sometimeperhaps the world would turn around so that he would have opportunity torepay Endicott's kindness that he might not repay in money, but until thenMichael would keep out of his way. It was the one poor little rag of pridehe allowed himself from the shattering of all his hopes. 

Sam narrowed his eyes and looked Michael through, then slowly widened themagain, an expression of real interest coming into them. 

"Say! Do you mean it?" he asked doubtfully. "Be you straight goods? Wouldyou come back into de gang an not snitch on us ner nothin'?"

"I'm straight goods, Sam, and I won't snitch!" said Michael quickly. Heknew that he could hope for no fellow's confidence if he "snitched. "

"Wal, say, I've a notion to tell yeh!"

Sam attacked his ice cream contemplatively. 

"How would a bluff game strike you?" he asked suddenly as the lastdelectable mouthful of cream disappeared and he pulled the fresh cup ofcoffee toward him that the waiter had just set down. 

"What sort?" said Michael wondering what he was coming on in the way ofrevelation, but resolving not to be horrified at anything. Sam must notsuspect until he could understand what a difference education had made inthe way of looking at things. 

"Wal, there's diffrunt ways. Cripple's purty good. Foot all tied up inbloody rags, arm an' hand tied up, a couple o' old crutches. I could lendthe clo'es. They'd be short fer yeh, but that'd be all the better gag. Wecud swap an' I'd do the gen'lman act a while. " He looked covetously atMichael's handsome brown tweeds--"Den you goes fom house to house, er youstands on de corner--"

"Begging!" said Michael aghast. His eyes were on his plate and he wastrying to control his voice, but something of his horror crept into histones. Sam felt it and hastened on apologetically--

"Er ef you want to go it one better, keep on yer good cloes an' havethe asthma bad. I know a feller what'll teach you how, an' sell you thewhistles to put in yer mouth. You've no notion how it works. You just goaround in the subbubs tellin' thet you've only been out of the 'orspittaltwo days an' you walked all this way to get work an' couldn't get it, an'you want five cents to get back--see? Why, I know a feller--course he'sbeen at it fer years an' he has his regular beats--folks don't seem toremember--and be can work the ground over 'bout once in six months er so, and he's made's high's thirty-eight dollars in a day at asthma work. "

Sam paused triumphant to see what effect the statement had on his friend, but Michael's face was toward his coffee cup. 

"Seems sort of small business for a man!" he said at last, his voice steadywith control. "Don't believe I'd be good at that? Haven't you got somethingthat's real _work_?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. 

"Ef I thought you was up to it, " he murmured. "You'd be great with thatangel face o' yourn. Nobody'd ever suspect you. You could wear them clo'estoo. But it's work all right, an' mighty resky. Ef I thought you was upto it--" He continued to look keenly at Michael, and Michael, with innateinstinct felt his heart beat in discouraged thumps. What new deviltry wasSam about to propose?

"You used to be game all right!" murmured Sam interrogatively. "You neverused to scare easy--"

"Wal, I'll tell you, " in answer to Michael's questioning eyes whichsearched his little sharp wizened face--Michael was wondering if there wasanything in that face to redeem it from utter repulsiveness. 

"You see it's a reg'ler business, an' you hev to learn, but I'd give youpinters, all you'd need to know, I'm pretty slick myself. There's tools toopen things, an' you hev to be ready to 'xplain how you come thur an' jollyup a parlor maid per'aps. It's easy to hev made a mistake in the house, erbe a gas man er a plumber wot the boss sent up to look at the pipes. Butnight work's best pay after you get onto things. Thur's houses where youken lay your han's on things goin' into the thousands an' lots ov um easyto get rid of without anybody findin' out. There's Buck he used to be greatat it. He taught all the gang. The day he lit out he bagged a bit o' glasswuth tree tousand dollars, 'sides a whole handful of fivers an' tens wot hefound lyin' on a dressin' table pretty as you please. Buck he were a slickone at it. He'd be pleased to know you'd took up the work--"

Sam paused and eyed Michael with the first friendly gleam he had shown inhis eyes, and Michael, with his heart in a tumult of varied emotions, andthe quick color flooding brow and cheek, tried to hold himself in check. Hemust not speak too hastily. Perhaps he had not understood Sam's meaning. 

"Where is Buck?" Michael looked Sam straight in the eye. The small pupilsseemed to contract and shut out even his gaze. 

"They ain't never got a trace of Buck, " he said evasively. 

"But don't you know?" There was something in Michael's look that demandedan answer. 

"I might an' I might not, " responded Sam sullenly. 

Michael was still for several seconds watching Sam; each trying tounderstand the other. 

"Do you think he will come hack where I can see him?" he asked at length. 

"He might, an' he might not. 't depends. Ef you was in th' bizness hemight. It's hard to say. 't depends. "

Michael watched Sam again thoughtfully. 

"Tell me more about the business, " he said at last, his lips compressed, his brows drawn down into a frown of intensity. 

"Thur ain't much, more t'tell, " said Sam, still sullen. "I ain't sureyou're up to it?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ain't sure you got de sand. You might turn faint and snitch. " Sam leanedforward and spoke in low rapid sentences. "Wen we'd got a big haul, 'sposenyou'd got into de house an' done de pinchin', and we got the stuff safehid, an' you got tuk up? Would you snitch? Er would you take your pill likea man? That's what I'd want to be sure. Mikky would a' stood by the gang, but you--you've had a edicashun! They might go soft at college. I ain'tmuch use fer edicated persons myself. But I'll give you a show ef youpromise stiff not to snitch. We've got a big game on to-night up on MadisonAvenue, an' we're a man short. Dere's dough in it if we make it go allright. Rich man. Girl goin' out to a party to-night. She's goin' to wearsome dimons wurth a penny. Hed it in de paper. Brung 'em home from de bankthis mornin'. One o' de gang watched de feller come out o' de bank. It'sall straight so fur. It's a pretty big haul to let you in de first try, an'you'll hev to run all de risks; but ef you show you're game we'll make it abargain. "

Michael held himself tensely and fought the desire to choke the fellowbefore him; tried to remember that he was the same Sam who had once divideda crust with him, and whom he had come to help; reflected that he mighthave been as bad himself if he had never been taken from the terribleenvironment of the slums and shown a better way; knew that if he for onefraction of a second showed his horror at the evil plot, or made anyattempt to stop it all hope of reaching Sam, or Buck, or any of the otherswas at an end; and with it all hope of finding any stray links of his ownpast history. Besides, though honor was strong in him and he would never"snitch" on his companions, it would certainly be better to find out asmuch as possible about the scheme. There might be other ways besides"snitching" of stopping such things. Then suddenly his heart almost stoppedbeating, Madison Avenue! Sam had said Madison Avenue, and a girl! What ifit were Starr's jewels they were planning to take. He knew very littleabout such matters save what he had read. It did not occur to him thatStarr was not yet "out" in society; that she would be too young to wearcostly jewels and have her costume put in the paper. He only knew that hisheart was throbbing again painfully, and that the fellow before him seemedtoo vile to live longer on the same earth with Starr, little, beautiful, exquisite Starr. 

He was quite still when Sam had finished; his face was white with emotionand his eyes were blazing blue flames when he raised them to look at Sam. Then he became aware that his answer was awaited. 

"Sam, do you mean _burglary_?" He tried to keep his voice low and steady ashe spoke but he felt as if he had shouted the last word. The restaurantwas almost empty now, and the waiters had retired behind the scenes amid aclatter of dishes. 

"That's about as pretty a word as you can call it, I guess, " said Sam, drawing back with a snarl as he saw the light in Michael's eyes. 

Michael looked him through for an instant, and if a glance can burn thensurely Sam's little soul shrank scorching into itself, but it was so briefthat the brain which was only keen to things of the earth had not analyzedit. Michael dropped his glance to the table again, and began playing withhis spoon and trying to get calm with a deep breath as he used to when heknew a hard spot in a ball game was coming. 

"Well, why don't you speak? You 'fraid?" It was said with a sneer that adevil from the pit might have given. 

Then Michael sat up calmly. His heart was beating steadily now and he wasfacing his adversary. 

"No! I'm not afraid, Sam, if there were any good reason for going, but youknow I never could feel comfortable in getting my living off somebody else. It doesn't seem fair to the other fellow. You see they've got a right tothe things they own and I haven't; and because I might be smart enough tocatch them napping and sneak away with what they prize doesn't make itright either. Now that girl probably thinks a lot of her diamonds, you see, and it doesn't seem quite the manly thing for a big strong fellow like meto get them away from her, does it? Of course you may think differently, but I believe I'd rather do some good hard work that would keep my musclesin trim, than to live off some one else. There's a kind of pretty gray mossthat grows where I went to college. It floats along a little seed blown inthe air first and lodges on the limb of a tree and begins to fasten itselfinto the bark, and grow and grow and suck life from the big tree. Itdoesn't seem much at first, and it seems as if the big tree might spareenough juice to the little moss. But wait a few years and see what happens. The moss grows and drapes itself in great long festoons all over that treeand by and by the first thing you know that tree has lost all its greenleaves and stands up here stark and dead with nothing on its bare branchesbut that old gray moss which has to die too because it has nothing to liveon any longer. It never learned to gather any juice for itself. They callthe moss a parasite. I couldn't be a human parasite, Sam. You may feeldifferently about it, but I couldn't. I really couldn't. "

Michael's eyes had grown dreamy and lost their fire as he remembered thedear South land, and dead sentinel pines with their waving gray festoonsagainst the ever blue sky. As he talked he saw the whole great out-of-doorsagain where he had wandered now so many years free and happy; free fromburdens of humanity which were pressing him now so sorely. A great longingto fly back to it all, to get away from the sorrow and the degradation andthe shame which seemed pressing so hard upon him, filled his heart, leapedinto his eyes, caught and fascinated the attention of the listening Sam, who understood very little of the peroration. He had never heard of aparasite. He did not know he had always been a human parasite. He wasmerely astonished and a trifle fascinated by the passion and appeal inMichael's face as he spoke. 

"Gosh!" he said in a tone almost of admiration. "Gosh! Is that wotedicashun done fer you?"

"Perhaps, " said Michael pleasantly, "though I rather think, Sam, that Ialways felt a bit that way, I just didn't know how to say it. "

"Wal, you allus was queer!" muttered Sam half apologetically. "I couldn'tsee it that way myself, as you say, but o' course it's your fun'ral! Ef youkin scratch up enough grub bein' a tree, why that's your own lookout. Mossis good 'nough fer me fer de present. "

Michael beamed his wonderful smile on Sam and answered: "Perhaps you'll seeit my way some day, Sam, and then we can get a job together!"

There was so much comraderie in the tone, and so much dazzling brilliancyin the smile that Sam forgot to be sullen. 

"Wal, mebbe, " he chuckled, "but I don't see no edicashun comin' my way dislate day, so I guess I'll git along de way I be. "

"It isn't too late yet, Sam. There's more than one way of getting aneducation. It doesn't always come through college. "

After a little more talk in which Sam promised to find out if there wasany way for Michael to visit Jim in his temporary retirement from thelaw-abiding world, and Michael promised to visit Sam in the alley again atan appointed time, the two separated. 

Then Michael went forth to reconnoitre and to guard the house of Endicott. 

With no thought of any personal danger, Michael laid his plans. Beforesundown, he was on hand, having considered all visible and invisible meansof ingress to the house. He watched from a suitable distance all who cameand went. He saw Mr. Endicott come home. He waited till the evening drewnear when a luxurious limousine stopped before the door; assured himselfthat only Mrs. Endicott had gone out. A little later Mr. Endicott also leftthe house. Starr had not gone out. He felt that he had double need to watchnow as she was there alone with only the servants. 

Up and down he walked. No one passed the Endicott house unwatched by him. None came forth or went in of whom he did not take careful notice. 

The evening passed, and the master and mistress of the house returned. Oneby one the lights went out. Even in the servants' rooms all was dark atlast. The night deepened and the stars thickened overhead. 

The policeman's whistle sounded through the quiet streets and the cityseemed at last to be sinking into a brief repose. It was long pastmidnight, and still Michael kept up his patrol. Up this side of the street, down that, around the corner, through the alley at the back where "de kids"had stood in silent respect uncovered toward his window years ago; back tothe avenue again, and on around. With his cheery whistle and his steadyringing step he awakened no suspicion even when he came near to apoliceman; and besides, no lurkers of the dark would steal out while he wasso noisily in the neighborhood. 

And so he watched the night through, till the morning broke and sunshineflooded the; window of the room where Starr, unconscious of his vigil, laya-sleeping. 

Busy milk wagons were making their rounds, and sleepy workmen with dinnerpails slung over their arms were striding to their day's work through thecool of the morning, as Michael turned his steps toward his lodging. Broadmorning was upon them and deeds of darkness could be no more. The night waspassed. Nothing had happened. Starr was safe. He went home and to sleepwell pleased. He might not companion with her, but it was his privilege toguard her from unsuspected evils. That was one joy that could not be takenfrom him by the taint that was upon him. Perhaps his being a child of theslums might yet prove to be a help to guard her life from harm. 

CHAPTER XI

It was the first week in September that Michael, passing through a crowdedthoroughfare, came face to face with Mr. Endicott. 

The days had passed into weeks and Michael had not gone near hisbenefactor. He had felt that he must drop out of his old friend's lifeuntil a time came that he could show his gratitude for the past. Meantimehe had not been idle. His winning smile and clear eyes had been hispassport; and after a few preliminary experiences he had secured a positionas salesman in a large department store. His college diploma and a letterfrom the college president were his references. He was not earning much, but enough to pay his absolute expenses and a trifle over. Meantime he wasgaining experience. 

This Saturday morning of the first week of September he had come to thestore as usual, but had found that on account of the sudden death of amember of the firm the store would be closed for the day. 

He was wondering how he should spend his holiday and wishing that he mightget out into the open and breathe once more the free air under wavingtrees, and listen to the birds, and the waters and the winds. He was halftempted to squander a few cents and go to Coney Island or up the Hudson, somewhere, anywhere to get out of the grinding noisy tempestuous city, whose sin and burden pressed upon his heart night and day because of thatfrom which he had been saved; and of that from which he had not the powerto save others. 

Then out of an open doorway rushed a man, going toward a waitingautomobile, and almost knocking Michael over in his progress. 

"Oh! It is you, young man! At last! Well, I should like to know what youhave done with yourself all these weeks and why you didn't keep yourappointment with me?"

"Oh!" said Michael, pleasure and shame striving together in his face. Hecould see that the other man was not angry, and was really relieved to havefound him. 

"Where are you going, son?" Endicotts tone had already changed fromgruffness to kindly welcome. "Jump in and run down to the wharf with mewhile you give an account of yourself. I'm going down to see Mrs. Endicottoff to Europe. She is taking Starr over to school this winter. I'm latealready, so jump in. "

Michael seemed to have no choice and stepped into the car, which waswhirled through the intricate maze of humanity and machinery down towardthe regions where the ocean-going steamers harbor. 

His heart was in a tumult at once, both of embarrassed joy to be inthe presence of the man who had done so much for him, and of eageranticipation. Starr! Would he see Starr again? That was the thoughtuppermost in his mind. He had not as yet realized that she was going awayfor a long time. 

All the spring time he had kept guard over the house in Madison Avenue. Notall night of course, but hovering about there now and then, and for twoweeks after he had talked with Sam, nightly. Always he had walked that waybefore retiring and looked toward the window where burned a soft light. Then they had gone to the seashore and the mountains and the house had puton solemn shutters and lain asleep. 

Michael knew all about it from a stray paragraph in the society column ofthe daily paper which he happened to read. 

Toward the end of August he had made a round through Madison Avenue everynight to see if they had returned home, and for a week the shutters hadbeen down and the lights burning as of old. It had been good to know thathis charge was back there safely. And now he was to see her. 

"Well! Give an account of yourself. Were you trying to keep out of mysight? Why didn't you come to my office?"

Michael looked him straight in the eye with his honest, clear gaze thatshowed no sowing of wild oats, no dissipation or desire to get away fromfriendly espionage. He decided in a flash of a thought that this man shouldnever know the blow his beautiful, haughty wife had dealt him. It was true, all she had said, and he, Michael, would give the real reason why he hadnot come. 

"Because I thought you had done for me far more than I deserved already, and I did not wish to be any further burden to you. "

"The dickens you did!" exclaimed Endicott. "You good-for-nothing rascal, didn't you know you would be far more of a burden running off in that stylewithout leaving a trace of yourself behind so I could hunt you up, than ifyou had behaved yourself and done as I told you? Here I have been doinga lot of unnecessary worrying about you. I thought you had fallen amongthieves or something, or else gone to the dogs. Don't you know that is amost unpardonable thing to do, run off from a man who has told you he wantsto see you? I thought I made you understand that I had more than a passinginterest in your welfare!"

The color came into the fine, strong face and a pained expression in hiseyes. 

"I'm sorry, sir! I didn't think of it that way. I thought you felt somekind of an obligation; I never felt so, but you said you did; and I thoughtif I got out of your way I would trouble you no more. "

"Trouble me! Trouble me! Why, son, I like to be troubled once in a while bysomething besides getting money and spending it. You never gave me a shadowof trouble, except these last weeks when you've disappeared and I couldn'tdo anything for you. You've somehow crept into my life and I can't get youout. In fact, I don't want to. But, boy, if you felt that way, what madeyou come to New York at all? You didn't feel that way the night you came tomy house to dinner. "

Michael's eyes owned that this was true, but his firm lips showed that hewould never betray the real reason for the change. 

"I--didn't--realize--sir!"

"Realize? Realize what?"

"I didn't realize the difference between my station and yours, sir. Therehad never been anything during my years in school to make me know. I am a'child of the slums'"--unconsciously he drifted into quotations from Mrs. Endicott's speech to him--"and you belong to a fine old family. I don'tknow what terrible things are in my blood. You have riches and a namebeyond reproach--" He had seen the words in an article he had read theevening before, and felt that they fitted the man and the occasion. He didnot know that he was quoting. They had become a part of his thoughts. 

"I might make the riches if I tried hard, " he held up his head proudly, "but I could never make the name. I will always be a child of the slums, nomatter what I do!"

"Child of the fiddlesticks!" interrupted Endicott. "Wherever did you getall that, rot? It sounds as if you had been attending society functions andlistening to their twaddle. It doesn't matter what you are the child of, ifyou're a mind to be a man. This is a free country, son, and you can be andclimb where you please. Tell me, where did you get all these ideas?"

Michael looked down. He did not wish to answer. 

"In a number of places, " he answered evasively. 

"Where!"

"For one thing, I've been down to the alley where I used to live. " The eyeswere looking into his now, and Endicott felt a strange swelling of pridethat he had had a hand in the making of this young man. 

"Well?"

"I know from what you've taken me--I can never be what you are!"

"Therefore you won't try to be anything? Is that it?"

"Oh, no! I'll try to be all that I can, but--I don't belong with you. I'mof another class--"

"Oh, bosh! Cut that out, son! Real men don't talk like that. You're abetter man now than any of the pedigreed dudes I know of, and as for taintsin the blood, I could tell you of some of the sons of great men who havetaints as bad as any child of the slums. Young man, you can be whatever youset out to be in this world! Remember that. "

"Everyone does not feel that way, " said Michael with conviction, though hewas conscious of great pleasure in Endicott's hearty words. 

"Who, for instance?" asked Endicott looking at him sharply. 

Michael was silent. He could not tell him. 

"Who?" asked the insistent voice once more. 

"The world!" evaded Michael. 

"The world is brainless. You can make the world think what you like, son, remember that! Here we are. Would you like to come aboard?"

But Michael stood back. 

"I think I will wait here, " he said gravely. It had come to him that Mrs. Endicott would be there. He must not intrude, not even to see Starr oncemore. Besides, she had made it a point of honor for him to keep away fromher daughter. He had no choice but to obey. 

"Very well, " said Endicott, "but see you don't lose yourself again. I wantto see you about something. I'll not be long. It must be nearly time forstarting. " He hurried away and Michael stood on the edge of the thronglooking up at the great floating village. 

It was his first view of an ocean-going steamer at close range andeverything about it interested him. He wished he might have gone aboard andlooked the vessel over. He would like to know about the engines and see thecabins, and especially the steerage about which he had read so much. Butperhaps there would be an opportunity again. Surely there would be. Hewould go to Ellis Island, too, and see the emigrants as they came intothe country, seeking a new home where they had been led to expect tofind comfort and plenty of work, and finding none; landing most of them, inevitably, in the slums of the cities where the population was alreadycongested and where vice and disease stood ready to prey upon them. Michaelhad been spending enough time in the alleys of the metropolis to be alreadydeeply interested in the problem of the city, and deeply pained by itssorrows. 

But his thoughts were not altogether of the masses and the classes as hestood in the bright sunlight and gazed at the great vessel about to plowits way over the bright waters. He was realizing that somewhere withinthose many little windowed cabins was a bright faced girl, the only one ofwomankind in all the earth about whom his tender thoughts had ever hovered. Would he catch a glimpse of her face once more before she went away for thewinter? She was going to school, her father had said. How could they bearto send her across the water from them? A whole winter was a long time; andyet, it would pass. Thirteen years had passed since he went away from NewYork, and he was back. It would not be so long as that. She would return, and need him perhaps. He would be there and be ready when he was needed. 

The fine lips set in a strong line that was good to see. There were thepatient, fearless lines of a soldier in the boy's face, and rugged strengthin spite of his unusual beauty of countenance. It is not often one sees aface like Michael's. There was nothing womanish in his looks. It was ratherthe completeness of strength and courage combined with mighty modellingand perfection of coloring, that made men turn and look after him and lookagain, as though they had seen a god; and made women exclaim over him. Ifhe had been born in the circles of aristocracy he would have been the idolof society, the spoiled of all who knew him. He was even now being staredat by every one in sight, and more than one pair of marine glasses from thefirst cabin deck were pointed at him; but he stood deep in his thoughts andutterly unconscious of his own attraction. 

It was only a moment before the first warning came, and people crowded onthe wharf side of the decks, while others hurried down the gang plank. Michael watched the confusion with eagerness, his eyes searching the decksfor all possible chance of seeing Starr. 

When the last warning was given, and just as the gang plank was about to behauled up, Mr. Endicott came hurrying down, and Michael suddenly saw herface in the crowd on the deck above, her mother's haughtily pretty facejust behind her. 

Without in the least realizing what he was doing Michael moved through thecrowd until he stood close behind Starr's father, and then all at once hebecame aware that her starry eyes were upon him, and she recognized him. 

He lifted his hat and stood in reverent attitude as though in the presenceof a queen, his eyes glowing eloquently, his speaking face paying hertribute as plainly as words could have done. The noonday sun burnished hishair with its aureole flame, and more than one of the passengers calledattention to the sight. 

"See that man down there!" exclaimed a woman of the world close behind Mrs. Endicott. "Isn't he magnificent! He has a head and shoulders like ayoung god!" She spoke as if her acquaintance with gods was wide, and herneighbors turned to look. 

"See, mamma, " whispered Starr glowing rosily with pleasure, "they arespeaking of Michael!"

Then the haughty eyes turned sharply and recognized him. 

"You don't mean to tell me that upstart has dared to come down and see usoff. The impudence of him! I am glad your father had enough sense not tobring him on board. He would probably have come if he had let him. Comeaway, Starr. He simply shall not look at you in that way!"

"What! Come away while papa is standing there watching us out of sight. I simply couldn't. What would papa think? And besides, I don't see whyMichael shouldn't come if he likes. I think it was nice of him. I wonderwhy he hasn't been to the house to explain why he never came for thathorseback ride. "

"You're a very silly ignorant little girl, or you would understand that hehas no business presuming to come to our house; and he knows it perfectlywell. I want you to stop looking in that direction at once. I simply willnot have him devouring you with his eyes in that way. I declare I wouldlike to go back and tell him what I think of him. Starr, stop I tell you, Starr!"

But the noise of the starting drowned her words, and Starr, her cheeks likeroses and her eyes like two stars, was waving a bit of a handkerchief andsmiling and throwing kisses. The kisses were for her father, but the smilesand the starry glances, and the waving bit of cambric were for Michael, and they all travelled through the air quite promiscuously, drenching thebright uncovered head of the boy with sweetness. His eyes gave her greetingand thanks and parting all in one in that brief moment of her passing: andher graceful form and dainty vivid face were graven on his memory in quicksweet blows of pain, as he realized that she was going from him. 

Slowly the great vessel glided out upon the bright waters and grew smallerand smaller. The crowd on the wharf were beginning to break away and hurryback to business or home or society. Still Michael stood with bared headgazing, and that illumined expression upon his face. 

Endicott, a mist upon his own glasses at parting from his beloved baby, saw the boy's face as it were the face of an angel; and was half startled, turning away embarrassedly as though he had intruded upon a soul at prayer;then looked again. 

"Come, son!" he said almost huskily. "It's over! We better be getting back. Step in. "

The ride back to the office was a silent one. Somehow Endicott did not feellike talking. There had been some differences between himself and his wifethat were annoying, and a strange belated regret that he had let Starr goaway for a foreign education was eating into his heart. Michael, on hispart, was living over again the passing of the vessel and the blessing ofthe parting. 

Back in the office, however, all was different. Among the familiar wallsand gloomy desks and chairs Endicott was himself, and talked business. Heput questions, short, sharp and in quick succession. 

"What are you doing with yourself? Working? What at? H'm! How'd you getthere? Like it? Satisfied to do that all your life? You're not? Well, what's your line? Any ambitions? You ought to have got some notion incollege of what you're fit for. Have you thought what you'd like to do inthe world?"

Michael hesitated, then looked up with his clear, direct, challenging gaze. 

"There are two things, " he said, "I want to earn money and buy some land inthe country, and I want to know about laws. "

"Do you mean you want to be a lawyer?"

"Yes. "

"What makes you think you'd be a success as a lawyer?"

"Oh, I might not be a success, but I need to know law, I want to try tostop some things that ought not to be. "

"H'm!" grunted Endicott disapprovingly. "Don't try the reform game, itdoesn't pay. However, if you feel that way you'll probably be all right tostart. That'll work itself off and be a good foundation. There's no reasonwhy you shouldn't be a lawyer if you choose, but you can't study lawselling calico. You might get there some day, if you stick to yourambition, but you'd be pretty old before you were ready to practice if youstarted at the calico counter and worked your way up through everything youcame to. Well, I can get you into a law office right away. How soon canyou honorably get away from where you are? Two weeks? Well, just wait aminute. "

Endicott called up a number on the telephone by his side, and therefollowed a conversation, brief, pointed, but in terms that Michael couldbarely follow. He gathered that a lawyer named Holt, a friend of Mr. Endicott's, was being asked to take him into his office to read law. 

"It's all right, son, " said Endicott as he hung up the receiver and whirledaround from the 'phone. "You're to present yourself at the office as soonas you are free. This is the address"--hurriedly scribbling something on acard and handing it to him. 

"Oh, thank you!" said Michael, "but I didn't mean to have you take any moretrouble for me. I can't be dependent on you any longer. You have done somuch for me--"

"Bosh!" said Endicott, "I'm not taking any trouble. And you're notdependent on me. Be as independent as you like. You're not quite twenty-oneyet, are you? Well, I told you you were my boy until you were of age, and Isuppose there's nothing to hinder me doing as I will with my own. It's paidwell all I've done for you so far, and I feel the investment was a goodone. You'll get a small salary for some office work while you're studying, so after you are twenty-one you can set up for yourself if you like. Tillthen I claim the privilege of giving you a few orders. Now that's settled. Where are you stopping? I don't intend to lose sight of you again. "

Michael gave him the street and number. Endicott frowned. 

"That's not a good place. I don't like the neighborhood. If you're going tobe a lawyer, you must start in right. Here, try this place. Tell the womanI sent you. One of my clerks used to board there. "

He handed Michael another address. 

"Won't that cost a lot?" asked Michael studying the card. "Not any morethan you can afford, " said Endicott, "and remember, I'm giving orders untilyour majority. "

Michael beamed his brilliant smile at his benefactor. 

"It is like a real father!" said the boy deeply moved. "I can never repayyou. I can never forget it. "

"Well, don't!" said Endicott. "Let's turn to the other thing. What do youwant land for?"

Michael's face sobered instantly. 

"For an experiment I want to try, " he said without hesitation, and then, his eyes lighting up, "I'll be able to do it now, soon, perhaps, if I workhard. You see I studied agriculture in college--"

"The dickens you did!" exclaimed Endicott. "What did you do that for?"

"Well, it was there and I could, and I wanted to know about it. "

"H'm!" said Endicott. "I wonder what some of my pedigreed million-dollarfriend's sons would think of that? Well, go on. "

"Why, that's all, " laughed Michael happily. "I studied it and I want to tryit and see what I can do with it. I want to buy a farm. "

"How would you manage to be a farmer and a lawyer both?"

"Well, I thought there might he a little time after hours to work, and Icould tell others how--"

"Oh, I see you want to be a gentleman farmer, " laughed Endicott. "Iunderstand that's expensive business. "

"I think I could make it pay, sir. " said Michael shutting his lips withthat firm challenge of his. "I'd like to try. "

Endicott looked at him quizzically for a minute and then whirling around inhis office chair he reached out his hand to a pigeon hole and took out adeed. 

"I've a mind to let you have your try, " said Endicott, chuckling as if itwere a good joke. "Here's a little farm down in Jersey. It's swampy andthick with mosquitoes. I understand it won't grow a beanstalk. Thereare twelve acres and a tumble-down house on it. I've had to take it insettlement of a mortgage. The man's dead and there's nothing but the farmto lay hands on. He hasn't even left a chick or child to leave his debt to. I don't want the farm and I can't sell it without a lot of trouble. I'llgive it to you. You may consider it a birthday present. If you'll pay thetaxes I'll be glad to get it off my hands. That'll be something for you tobe independent about. "

He touched a bell and a boy appeared. 

"Take this to Jowett and tell him to have a deed made out to MichaelEndicott, and to attend to the transfer of the property, nominal sum. Understand?"

The boy said, "Yes, sir, " and disappeared with the paper. 

"But I can't take a present like that from you after all you have done forme, " gasped Michael, a granite determination showing in his blue eyes. "Nonsense, " said Endicott. "Other men give their sons automobiles when theycome of age. Mayn't I give you a farm if I like? Besides, I tell you it'sof no account. I want to get rid of it, and I want to see what you'll makeof it. I'd like to amuse myself seeing you try your experiment. "

"If you'll let me pay you for it little by little--"

"Suit yourself after you have become a great lawyer, " laughed Endicott, "but not till then, remember. There, cut it out, son! I don't want to bethanked. Here's the description of the place and directions how to getthere. It isn't many miles away. If you've got a half holiday run downand look it over. It'll keep you out of mischief. There's nothing like anambition to keep people out of mischief. Bun along now, I haven't anotherminute to spare, but mind you turn up at Holt's office this day two weeks, and report to me afterwards how you like it. I don't want to lose sight ofyou again. "

The entrance of another man on business cut short the interview, andMichael, bestowing an agonizingly happy grip on Endicott's hand and abrilliant smile like a benediction, took his directions and hurried outinto the street. 

CHAPTER XII

With the precious paper in his hand Michael took himself with allswiftness to the DesBrosses Ferry. Would there be a train? It was almosttwo o'clock. He had had no lunch, but what of that? He had that in hisheart which made mere eating seem unnecessary. The experiences of the pasttwo hours had lifted him above, earth and its necessities for the time. Anda farm, a real farm! Could it be true? Had his wish come true so soon? Hecould scarcely wait for the car to carry him or the boat to puff its wayacross the water. He felt as if he must fly to see his new possession. AndMr. Endicott had said he might pay for it sometime when he got to be agreat lawyer. He had no doubt but that he would get there if such a thingwere possible, and anyhow he meant to pay for that ground. Meantime it washis. He was not a poor nobody after all. He owned land, and a house. 

His face was a mingling of delightful emotions as he stood by the rail ofthe ferry-boat and let his imagination leap on ahead of him. The day wasperfect. It had rained the night before and everything, even the air seemednewly washed for a fresh trial at living. Every little wavelet sparkledlike a jewel, and the sunlight shimmered on the water in a most alluringway. Michael forgot for the moment the sorrow and misery of the crowdedcity he was leaving behind him. For this afternoon at least he was a boyagain wandering off into the open. 

His train was being called as he stepped from the ferry-boat. The next boatwould have missed it. He hurried aboard and was soon speeding through theopen country, with now and again a glimpse of the sea, as the train camecloser to the beach. They passed almost continuously beautiful resorts, private villas, great hotels, miles of cottages set in green terrace withglowing autumn flowers in boxes or bordering the paths. 

Michael watched everything with deep interest. This was the land of his newpossession. Whatever was growing here would be likely to grow on his placeif it were properly planted and cared for. Ere this flowers had had littlepart in his farming scheme, but so soon as he saw the brilliant display heresolved that he must have some of those also. And flowers would sell aswell if not better than vegetables if properly marketed. 

That vivid hedge of scarlet and gold, great heavy-headed dahlias they were. He did not know the name, but he would find it out somehow. They would takeup little room and would make his new place a thing of beauty. Farther on, one great white cottage spread its veranda wings on either side to a tallfringe of pink and white and crimson cosmos; and again a rambling graystone piece of quaint architecture with low sloping roofs of mossy green, and velvet lawn creeping down even to the white beach sands, was set aboutwith flaming scarlet sage. It was a revelation to the boy whose eyes hadnever looked upon the like before. Nature in its wildness and originalbeauty had been in Florida; New York was all pavements and buildings with awindow box here and there. He as yet knew nothing of country homes in theirluxury and perfection, save from magazine pictures. All the way along hewas picking out features that he meant some day to transfer to his ownlittle farm. 

It was after three when he reached the station, and a good fifteen minuteswalk to the farm, but every step of it was a delight. 

Pearl Beach, they called the station. The beach was half a mile from therailroad, and a queer little straggling town mostly cottages and a fewstores hovered between railroad and beach. A river, broad, and shallow, wound its silver way about the village and lost itself in the wideness ofthe ocean. Here and there a white sail flew across its gleaming centre, andfishermen in little boats sat at their idle task. What if his land shouldtouch somewhere this bonny stream!

Too eager to wait for investigation he stopped a passing stranger andquestioned him. Yes, the river was salt. It had tides with the sea, too. There was great fishing and sailing, and some preferred bathing there tothe ocean. Yes, Old Orchard farm was on its bank. It had a river frontageof several hundred feet but it was over a mile back from the beach. 

The stranger was disposed to delay and gossip about the death of the formerowner of Old Orchard and its probable fate now that the mortgage hadbeen foreclosed; but Michael with a happy light in his eyes thanked himcourteously and hurried on. Wings were upon his feet, and his heart waslight and happy. He felt like a bird set free. He breathed in the strongsalt air with delight. 

And then the burden of the city came to him again, the city with all itsnoise and folly and sin; with its smells and heat, and lack of air; withits crowded, suffering, awful humanity, herded together like cattle, andliving in conditions worse than the beasts of the fields. If he could butbring them out here, bring some of them at least; and show them what God'searth was like! Ah!

His heart beat wildly at the thought! It was not new. He had harbored itever since his first visit to the alley. It was his great secret, his muchhoped for experiment. If he might be able to do it sometime. This bit of afarm would open the way. There would be money needed of course, and wherewas it to come from? But he could work. He was strong. He would give hisyoung life for his people--save them from their ignorance and despair. Atleast he could save some; even one would be worth while. 

So he mused as he hurried on, eyes and mind open to all he saw. 

There was no fence in front of Old Orchard farm. A white road bordered withgolden rod and wild asters met the scraggly grass that matted and tangleditself beneath the gnarled apple trees. A grassy rutted wagon track curveditself in vistas between the trees up to the house which was set far backfrom the road. A man passing identified the place for Michael, and lookedhim over apprizingly, wondering as did all who saw him, at the power andstrength of his beauty. 

The house was weather-beaten unpainted clapboards, its roof of curled andmossy shingles possessing undoubted leakable qualities, patched here andthere. A crazy veranda ambled across the front. It contained a long lowroom with a queer old-fashioned chimney place wide enough to sit in, asquare south room that must have been a dining-room because of the paintedcupboard whose empty shelves gazed ghastly between half-open doors, and asmall kitchen, not much more than a shed. In the long low room a staircasetwisted itself up oddly to the four rooms under the leaky roof. It was allempty and desolate, save for an old cot bed and a broken chair. The floorshad a sagged, shaky appearance. The doors quaked when they were opened. The windows were cobwebby and dreary, yet it looked to the eyes of the newhouseholder like a palace. He saw it in the light of future possibilitiesand gloried in it. That chimney place now. How would it look with a greatlog burning in it, and a rug and rocking chair before it. What would--AuntSally--perhaps--say to it when he got it fixed up? Could he ever coax herto leave her dirty doorstep and her drink and come out here to live? Andhow would he manage it all if he could? There would have to be something tofeed her with, and to buy the rug and the rocking chair. And first of allthere would have to be a bath-tub. Aunt Sally would need to be purifiedbefore she could enter the portals of this ideal cottage, when he hadmade it as he wanted it to be. Paint and paper would make wonderfultransformations he knew, for he had often helped at remodelling the roomsat college during summer vacations. He had watched and been with theworkmen and finally taken a hand. This habit of watching and helping hadtaught him many things. But where were paper and paint and time to useit coming from? Ah, well, leave that to the future. He would find a way. Yesterday he did not have the house nor the land for it to stand upon. Ithad come and the rest would follow in their time. 

He went happily about planning for a bath-room. There would have to bewater power. He had seen windmills on other places as he passed. That wasperhaps the solution of this problem, but windmills cost money of course. Still, --all in good time. 

There was a tumbled-down barn and chicken house, and a frowzy attempt at agarden. A strawberry bed overgrown with weeds, a sickly cabbage liftingits head bravely; a gaunt row of currant bushes; another wandering, out-reaching row of raspberries; a broken fence; a stretch of soppy bogland to the right, and the farm trailed off into desolate neglect ending ina charming grove of thick trees that stood close down to the river's bank. 

Michael went over it all carefully, noted the exposure of the land, kickedthe sandy soil to examine its unpromising state, walked all around the bogand tried to remember what he had read about cranberry bogs; wondered ifthe salt water came up here, and if it were good or bad for cranberries;wondered if cow peas grew in Jersey and if they would do for a fertilizingcrop as they did in Florida. Then he walked through the lovely woods, scenting the breath of pines and drawing in long whiffs of life as helooked up to the green roof over his head. They were not like the giantpines of the South land, but they were sweeter and more beautiful in theirform. 

He went down to the brink of the river and stood looking across. 

Not a soul was in sight and nothing moved save a distant sail fleeingacross the silver sheen to the sea. He remembered what the man had saidabout bathing and yielding to an irresistible impulse was soon swimmingout across the water. It was like a new lease of life to feel the waterbrimming to his neck again, and to propel himself with strong, gracefulstrokes through the element where he would. A bird shot up into the airwith a wild sweet note, and he felt like answering to its melody. Hewhistled softly in imitation of its voice, and the bird answered, and againand again they called across the water. 

But a look toward the west where the water was crimsoning already with thesetting sun warned him that his time was short, so he swam back to thesheltered nook where he had left his clothes, and improvising a towel fromhis handkerchief he dressed rapidly. The last train back left at seven. Ifhe did not wish to spend the night in his new and uninhabitable abode hemust make good time. It was later than he supposed, and he wished to goback to the station by way of the beach if possible, though it was out ofhis way. As he drew on his coat and ran his fingers through his hair inlieu of a brush, he looked wistfully at the bright water, dimpling now withhues of violet, pink, and gold and promising a rare treat in the way of asunset. He would like to stay and watch it. But there was the ocean waitingfor him. He must stand on the shore once and look out across it, and knowjust how it looked near his own house. 

He hurried through the grove and across the farm to the eastern edge, andlooking beyond the broken fence that marked the bounds of the bog landover the waste of salt grass he could see the white waves dimly tumbling, hurrying ever, to get past one another. He took the fence at a bound, made good time over the uncertain footing of the marsh grass and was soonstanding on the broad smooth beach with the open stretch of ocean beforehim. 

It was the first time he had ever stood on the seashore and the feeling ofawe that filled him was very great. But beyond any other sensation, camethe thought that Starr, his beautiful Starr, was out there on that widevast ocean, tossing in a tiny boat. For now the great steamer that hadseemed so large and palatial, had dwindled in his mind to a frail toy, andhe was filled with a nameless fear for her. His little Starr out there onthat fearful deep, with only that cold-eyed mother to take care of her. Awild desire to fly to her and bring her back possessed him; a thrilling, awesome something, he had never known before. He stood speechless beforeit; then raised his eyes to the roseate already purpling in streaks for thesunset and looking solemnly up he said, aloud:

"Oh, God, I love her!"

He stood facing the thought with solemn joy and pain for an instant, thenturned and fled from it down the purpling sands; fleeing, yet carrying hissecret with him. 

And when he came opposite the little village he trod its shabby, straggling, ill-paved streets with glory in his face; and walking thus withhat in hand, and face illumined toward the setting sun, folks looked at himstrangely and wondered who and what he was, and turned to look again. Inthat half-light of sunset, he seemed a being from another world. 

A native watching, dropped his whip, and climbing down from his rough wagonspoke the thought that all the bystanders felt in common:

"Gosh hang it! I thought he was one o' them glass angels stepped out of achurch winder over to 'Lizabeth-town. We don't see them kind much. I wondernow how he'd be to live with. Think I'd feel kinder creepy hevin' him'round all time, wouldn't you?"

All the way home the new thought came surging over him, he loved her andshe could never be his. It was deluging; it was beautiful; but it wasagonizing. He recalled how beautiful she had been as she waved farewell. And some of her smiles had been for him, he was sure. He had known ofcourse that the kisses were for her father, and yet, they had been blownfreely his way, and she had looked her pleasure at his presence. There hadbeen a look in her eyes such as she had worn that day in the college chapelwhen she had thrown precautions to the winds and put her arms about hisneck and kissed him. His young heart thrilled with a deep joy over thememory of it. It had been wonderful that she had done it; wonderful! whenhe was what he was, a _child of the slums_! The words seemed burned uponhis soul now, a part of his very life. He was not worthy of her, not worthyto receive her favor. 

Yet he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window frame as thetrain hurried along through the gathering darkness, and saw again thebright lovely face, the dainty fingers blowing kisses, the lips wreathedin smiles, and knew some of the farewell had been surely meant for him. He forgot the beautiful villas along the way, forgot to watch for thetwinkling lights, or to care how the cottages looked at evening. Wheneverthe track veered toward the sea and gave a glimpse of gray sky and yawningocean with here and there a point of light to make the darkness blacker, heseemed to know instinctively, and opening his eyes strained them to lookacross it. Out there in the blackness somewhere was his Starr and hemight not go to her, nor she come to him. There was a wide stretch ofunfathomable sea between them. There would always be that gray, impassablesky and sea of impossibility between them. 

As he neared New York, however, these thoughts dropped from him; andstanding on the ferry-boat with the million twinkling lights of the city, and the looming blackness of the huddled mass of towering buildings againstthe illuminated sky, the call of the people came to him. Over there inthe darkness, swarming in the fetid atmosphere of a crowded court werethousands like himself, yes, _like himself_, for he was one of them. Hebelonged there. They were his kind and he must help them!

Then his mind went to the farm and his plans, and he entered back into thegrind of life and assumed its burdens with the sweet pain of his secretlocked in his inmost heart. 

CHAPTER XIII

"Sam, have you ever been in the country?"

It was Michael who asked the question. They were sitting in a small dismalroom that Michael had found he could afford to rent in a house on theedge of the alley. Not that he had moved there, oh, no! He could not haveendured life if all of it that he could call his own had to be spent inthat atmosphere. He still kept his little fourth floor back in the dismallyrespectable street. He had not gone to the place recommended by Endicott, because he found that the difference he would have to pay would make itpossible for him to rent this sad little room near the alley; and for hispurposes this seemed to him an absolute necessity at present. 

The weather was growing too cold for him to meet with his new-oldacquaintances of the alley out of doors, and it was little better indoorseven if he could have endured the dirt and squalor of those apartments thatwould have been open to him. Besides, he had a great longing to show themsomething brighter than their own forlorn homes. 

There was a settlement house three or four blocks away, but it had notdrawn the dwellers in this particular alley. They were sunken too low, perhaps, or there were so many more hopeful quarters in which to work;and the city was so wide and deep and dark. Michael knew little about thesettlement house. He had read of such things. He had looked shyly towardits workers now and then, but as yet knew none of them, though they hadheard now and again of the "Angel-man of the alley, " and were curious tofind him out. 

But Michael's enterprise was all his own, and his ways of working were hisown. He had gone back into the years of his childhood and found out fromhis inner consciousness what it was he had needed, and now he was goingto try to give it to some other little "kids" who were as forlorn andfriendless as he had been. It wasn't much that he could do, but what hecould he would do, and more as soon as possible. 

And so he had rented this speck of a room, and purified it. He hadliterally compelled Sam to help him. That compelling was almost a modernmiracle, and wrought by radiant smiles, and a firm grip on Sam's shoulderwhen he told him what he wanted done. 

Together they had swept and scrubbed and literally scraped, the dirt fromthat room. 

"I don't see what you're making sech a darned fuss about dirt fer!"grumbled Sam as he arose from his knees after scrubbing the floor for thefourth time. "It's what we're all made of, dey say, an' nobuddy'll know dediffrunce. "

"Just see if they won't, Sam, " encouraged Michael as he polished off thedoor he had been cleaning. "See there, how nice that looks! You didn't knowthat paint was gray, did you? It looked brown before, it was so thick withdirt. Now we're ready for paint and paper!"

And so, in an atmosphere of soap and water they had worked night afternight till very late; and Sam had actually let a well-planned and promisingraid go by because he was so interested in what he was doing and he wasashamed to tell Michael of his engagement. 

Sam had never assisted at the papering of a room before; in fact, it isdoubtful if he ever saw a room with clean fresh paper on its walls in allhis life, unless in some house he had entered unlawfully. When this onestood arrayed at last in its delicate newness, he stood back and surveyedit in awed silence. 

Michael had chosen paper of the color of the sunshine, for the court wasdark and the alley was dark and the room was dark. The souls of the peopletoo were dark. They must have light and brightness if he would win them tobetter things. Besides, the paper was only five cents a roll, the cheapesthe could find in the city. Michael had learned at college during vacationshow to put it on. He made Sam wash and wash and wash his hands before hewas allowed to handle any of the delicate paper. 

"De paper'll jest git dirty right away, " grumbled Sam sullenly, albeit hewashed his hands, and his eyes glowed as they used to when a child at arare "find" in the gutter. 

"Wot'll you do when it gits dirty?" demanded Sam belligerently. 

"Put on some clean, " said Michael sunnily. "Besides, we must learn to haveclean hands and keep it clean. "

"I wish we had some curtains, " said Michael wistfully. "They had thin whitecurtains at college. "

"Are you makin' a college fer we?" asked Sam looking at him sharply. 

"Well, in a way, perhaps, " said Michael smiling. "You know I want you tohave all the advantages I had as far as I can get them. "

Sam only whistled and looked perplexed but he was doing more seriousthinking than he had ever done in his life before. 

And so the two had worked, and planned, and now to-night, the work wasabout finished. 

The walls reflected the yellow of the sunshine, the woodwork was paintedwhite enamel. Michael had, just put on the last gleaming coat. 

"We can give it another coat when it looks a little soiled, " he hadremarked to Sam, and Sam, frowning, had replied: "Dey better hev dere han'sclean. "

The floor was painted gray. There was no rug. Michael felt its lack andmeant to remedy it as soon as possible, but rugs cost money. There was asmall coal stove set up and polished till it shone, and a fire was laidready to start. They had not needed it while they were working hard. Thefurniture was a wooden, table painted gray with a cover of bright cretonne, two wooden chairs, and three boxes. Michael had collected these furnishingscarefully and economically, for he had to sacrifice many little comfortsthat he might get them. 

On the walls were two or three good pictures fastened by brass tacks; andsome of the gray moss and pine branches from Michael's own room. In thecentral wall appeared one of Michael's beloved college pennants. It wasunderstood by all who had yet entered the sacred precincts of the room tobe the symbol of what made the difference between them and "the angel, "and they looked at it with awe, and mentally crossed themselves in itspresence. 

At the windows were two lengths of snowy cheese-cloth crudely hemmed byMichael, and tacked up in pleats with brass-headed tacks. They were tiedback with narrow yellow ribbons. This had been the last touch and Sam satlooking thoughtfully at the stiff angular bows when Michael asked thequestion:

"Have you ever been in the country?"

"Sure!" said Sam scornfully. "Went wid de Fresh Air folks wen I were akid. "

"What did you think of it?"

"Don't tink much!" shrugged Sam. "Too empty. Nothin' doin'! Good 'nough ferkids. Never again fer _me_. "

It was three months since Michael had made his memorable first visit downto Old Orchard Farm. For weeks he had worked shoulder to shoulder everyevening with Sam and as yet no word of that plan which was nearest hisheart had been spoken. This was his first attempt to open the subject. 

That Sam had come to have a certain kind of respect and fondness for him hewas sure, though it was never expressed in words. Always he either objectedto any plan Michael suggested, or else he was extremely indifferent andwould not promise to be on hand. He was almost always there, however, andMichael had come to know that Sam was proud of his friendship, and at leastto a degree interested in his plans for the betterment of the court. 

"There are things in the country; other things, that make up for the stirof the city, " said Michael thoughtfully. This was the first unpracticalconversation he had tried to hold with Sam. He had been leading him up, through the various stages from dirt and degradation, by means of soapand water, then paper and paint, and now they had reached the doorway ofNature's school. Michael wanted to introduce Sam to the great world ofout-of-doors. For, though Sam had lived all his life out-of-doors, it hadbeen a world of brick walls and stone pavements, with little sky and almostno water. Not a green thing in sight, not a bird, nor a beast except ofburden. The first lesson was waiting in a paper bundle that stood under thetable. Would Sam take it, Michael wondered, as he rose and brought it outunwrapping the papers carefully, while Sam silently watched and pretendedto whistle, not to show too much curiosity. "What tings?" at last askedSam. 

"Things like this, " answered Michael eagerly setting out on the table anearthen pot containing a scarlet geranium in bloom. It glowed forth itsbrilliant torch at once and gave just the touch to the little empty cleanroom that Michael had hoped it would do. He stood back and looked at itproudly, and then looked at Sam to see if the lesson had been understood. He half expected to see an expression of scorn on the hardened sallow faceof the slum boy, but instead Sam was gazing open-mouthed, with unmitigatedadmiration. 

"Say! Dat's all right!" he ejaculated. "Where'd you make de raise? Say! Datmakes de paper an' de paint show up fine!" taking in the general effect ofthe room. 

Then he arose from the box on which he had been sitting and went and stoodbefore the blossom. 

"Say! I wisht Jim eud see dat dere!" he ejaculated after a long silence, and there was that in the expression of his face that brought the quickmoisture to Michael's eyes. 

It was only a common red geranium bought for fifteen cents, but it hadtouched with its miracle of bright life the hardened soul of the youngburglar, and opened his vision to higher things than he had known. It wasin this moment of open vision that his heart turned to his old companionwho was uncomplainingly taking the punishment which rightfully belonged tothe whole gang. 

"We will take him one to-morrow, " said Michael in a low voice husky withfeeling. It was the first time Sam had voluntarily mentioned Jim and he hadseemed so loth to take Michael to see him in jail that Michael had ceasedto speak of the matter. 

"There's another one just like this where I bought this one. I couldn'ttell which to take, they were both so pretty. We'll get it the first thingin the morning before anybody else snaps it up, and then, when could we getin to see Jim? Would they let us in after my office hours or would we haveto wait till Sunday? You look after that will you? I might get off at fouro'clock if that's not too late. "

"Dey'll let us in on Sunday ef _you_ ask, I reckon, " said Sam much moved. "But it's awful dark in prison. It won't live, will it? Dere's only onestreak o' sun shines in Jim's cell a few minutes every day. "

"Oh, I think it'll live, " said Michael hastily, a strange choking sensationin his throat at thought of his one-time companion shut into a dark prison. Of course, he deserved to be there. He had broken the laws, but then no onehad ever made him understand how wrong it was. If some one had only triedperhaps Jim would never have done the thing that put him in prison. 

"I'm sure it will live, " he said again cheerfully. "I've heard thatgeraniums are very hardy. The man told me they would live all winter in thecellar if you brought them up again in the spring. "

"Jim will be out again in de spring, " said Sam softly. It was the firstsign of anything like emotion in Sam. 

"Isn't that good!" said Michael heartily. "I wonder what we can do to makeit pleasant for him when he comes back to the world. We'll bring him tothis room, of course, but in the spring this will be getting warm. And thatmakes me think of what I was talking about a minute ago. There's so muchmore in the country than in the city!"

"More?" questioned Sam uncomprehendingly. 

"Yes, things like this to look at. Growing things that you get to love andunderstand. Wonderful things. There's a river that sparkles and talks as itruns. There are trees that laugh and whisper when the wind plays in theirbranches. And there are wonderful birds, little live breaths of air withmusic inside that make splendid friends when you're lonely. I know, for Imade lots of bird-friends when I went away from you all to college. Youknow I was pretty lonely at first. "

Sam looked at him with quick, keen wonder, and a lighting of his face thatmade him almost attractive and sent the cunning in his eyes slinking out ofsight. Had this fine great-hearted creature really missed his oldfriends when he went away? Had he really need of them yet, with all hiseducation--and--difference? It was food for thought. 

"Then there's the sky, so much of it, " went on Michael, "and so wide andblue, and sometimes soft white clouds. They make you feel rested when youlook at them floating lazily through the blue, and never seeming to betired; not even when there's a storm and they have to hurry. And there'sthe sunset. Sam, I don't believe you ever saw the sunset, not right anyway. You don't have sunsets here in the city, it just gets dark. You ought tosee one I saw not long ago. I mean to take you there some day and we'llwatch it together. I want to see if it will do the same thing to you thatit did to me. "

Sam looked at him in awe, for he wore his exalted look, and when he spokelike that Sam had a superstitious fear that perhaps after all he was as oldSal said, more of angel than of man. 

"And then, there's the earth, all covered with green, plenty of it to liein if you want to, and it smells so good; and there's so much air, --enoughto breathe your lungs full, and with nothing disagreeable in it, no uglysmells nor sounds. And there are growing things everywhere. Oh, Sam!Wouldn't you like to make things like this grow?"

Sam nodded and put forth his rough forefinger shamedly to touch the velvetof a green leaf, as one unaccustomed might touch a baby's cheek. 

"You'll go with me, Sam, to the country sometime, won't you? I've got aplan and I'll need you to help me carry it out. Will you go?"

"Sure!" said Sam in quite a different voice from any reluctant assent hehad ever given before. "Sure, I'll go!"

"Thank you, Sam, " said Michael more moved than he dared show, "And nowthat's settled I want to talk about this room. I'm going to have fivelittle kids here to-morrow early in the evening. I told them I'd show themhow to whittle boats and we're going to sail them in the scrub bucket. They're about the age you and I were when I went away to college. PerhapsI'll teach them a letter or two of the alphabet if they seem interested. They ought to know how to read, Sam. "

"I never learned to read--" muttered Sam half belligerently. "That so?"said Michael as if it were a matter of small moment. "Well, what if youwere to come in and help me with the boats. Then you could pick it up whenI teach them. You might want to use it some day. It's well to know how, anda man learns things quickly you know. "

Sam nodded. 

"I don't know's I care 'bout it, " he said indifferently, but Michael sawthat he intended to come. 

"Well, after the kids have gone, I won't keep them late you know, I wonderif you'd like to bring some of the fellows in to see this?"

Michael glanced around the room. 

"I've some pictures of alligators I have a fancy they might like to see. I'll bring them down if you say so. "

"Sure!" said Sam trying to hide his pleasure. 

"Then to-morrow morning I'm going to let that little woman that lives inthe cellar under Aunt Sally's room, bring her sewing here and work all day. She makes buttonholes in vests. It's so dark in her room she can't see andshe's almost ruined her eyes working by candle light. "

"She'll mess it all up!" grumbled Sam; "an' she might let other folks inan' they'd pinch the picters an' the posy. "

"No, she won't do that. I've talked to her about it. The room is to be hersfor the day, and she's to keep it looking just as nice as it did when shefound it. She'll only bring her work over, and go home for her dinner. She's to keep the fire going so it will be warm at night, and she's to tryit for a day and see how it goes. I think she'll keep her promise. We'lltry her anyway. "

Sam nodded as to a superior officer who nevertheless was awfully foolish. 

"Mebbe!" he said. 

"Sam, do you think it would be nice to bring Aunt Sally over now a fewminutes?"

"No, " said Sam shortly, "she's too dirty. She'd put her fingers on de wallfirst thing--"

"But Sam, I think she ought to come. And she ought to come first. She's theone that helped me find you--"

Sam looked sharply at Michael and wondered if he suspected how long thatsame Aunt Sally had frustrated his efforts to find his friends. 

"We could tell her not to touch things, perhaps--"

"Wal, you lemme tell her. Here! I'll go fix her up an' bring her now. " AndSam hurried out of the room. 

Michael waited, and in a few minutes Sam returned with Aunt Sally. But itwas a transformed Aunt Sally. Her face had been painfully scrubbed in acircle out as far as her ears, and her scraggy gray hair was twisted in atight knot at the back of her neck. Her hands were several shades cleanerthan Michael had ever seen them before, and her shoes were tied. She wore asmall three-cornered plaid shawl over her shoulders and entered cautiouslyas if half afraid to come. Her hands were clasped high across her breast. She had evidently been severely threatened against touching anything. 

"The saints be praised!" she ejaculated warmly after she had looked aroundin silence for a moment "To think I should ivver see the loikes uv this inde alley. It lukes loike a palace. Mikky, ye're a Nangel, me b'y! An'a rale kurtin, to be shure! I ain't seen a kurtin in the alley since Icummed. An' will ye luke at the purty posy a blowin' as foine as ye plaze!Me mither had the loike in her cottage window when I was a leetle gal! Aw, me pure auld mither!"

And suddenly to Michael's amazement, and the disgust of Sam, old Sal satdown on the one chair and wept aloud, with the tears streaming down herseamed and sin-scarred face. 

Sam was for putting her out at once, but Michael soothed her with hischeery voice, making her tell of her old home in Ireland, and the kindmother whom she had loved, though it was long years since she had thoughtof her now. 

With rare skill he drew from her the picture of the little Irish cottagewith its thatched roof, its peat fire, and well-swept hearth; the tablewith the white cloth, the cat in the rocking chair, the curtain starchedstiffly at the window, the bright posy on the deep window ledge; and, lastly, the little girl with clean pinafore and curly hair who kissed hermother every morning and trotted off to school. But that was before thefather died, and the potatoes failed. The school days were soon over, andthe little girl with her mother came to America. The mother died on the wayover, and the child fell into evil hands. That was the story, and as it wastold Michael's face grew tender and wistful. Would that he knew even somuch of his own history as that!

But Sam stood by struck dumb and trying to fancy that this old woman hadever been the bright rosy child she told about. Sam was passing through asort of mental and moral earthquake. 

"Perhaps some day we'll find another little house in the country where youcan go and live, " said Michael, "but meantime, suppose you go and seeif you can't make your room look like this one. You scrub it all up andperhaps Sam and I will come over and put some pretty paper on the walls foryou. Would you like that? How about it, Sam?"

"Sure!" said Sam rather grudgingly. He hadn't much faith in Aunt Sallyand didn't see what Michael wanted with her anyway, but he was loyal toMichael. 

Irish blessings mingled with tears and garnished with curses in the mostextraordinary way were showered upon Michael and at last when he couldstand no more, Sam said:

"Aw, cut it out, Sal. You go home an' scrub. Come on, now!" and he bundledher off in a hurry. 

Late as it was, old Sal lit a fire, and by the light of a tallow candle gotdown on her stiff old knees and began to scrub. It seemed nothing short ofa miracle that her room could ever look like that one she had just seen, but if scrubbing could do anything toward it, scrub she would. It was tenyears since she had thought of scrubbing her room. She hadn't seemed tocare; but to-night as she worked with her trembling old drink-shaken handsthe memory of her childhood's home was before her vision, and she workedwith all her might. 

So the leaven of the little white room in the dark alley began to work. "The Angel's quarters" it was named, and to be called to go within itscharmed walls was an honor that all coveted as time went on. And that washow Michael began the salvation of his native alley. 

CHAPTER XIV

Michael had been three months with the new law firm and was beginningto get accustomed to the violent contrast between the day spent in theatmosphere of low-voiced, quiet-stepping, earnest men who moved about intheir environment of polished floors, oriental rugs, leather chairs andwalls lined with leather-covered law books; and the evening down in thealley where his bare, little, white and gold room made the only tolerablespot in the neighborhood. 

He was still occupying the fourth floor back at his original boardinghouse, and had seen Mr. Endicott briefly three or four times, but nothinghad been said about his lodgings. 

One morning he came to the desk set apart for him in the law office, andfound a letter lying there for him. 

"Son:" it said, "your board is paid at the address given below, up to theday you are twenty-one. If you don't get the benefit it will go to waste. Mrs. Semple will make you quite comfortable and I desire you to move toher house at once. If you feel any obligation toward me this is the way todischarge it. Hope you are well, Tours, Delevan Endicott. '"

Michael's heart beat faster with varied emotions. It was pleasant to havesome one care, and of course if Mr. Endicott wished it so much he wouldmanage it somehow--perhaps he could get some night work or copying todo--but he would never let him bear his expenses. That could not be. 

He hurried off at the noon hour to find his benefactor and make this plainwith due gratitude. He found, however, that it was not so easy to changethis man's mind, once made up. Endicott would not hear to any change inarrangements. He had paid the board for the remaining months of Michael'sminority and maintained his right to do so if he chose. Neither would helet Michael refund him any of the amount. 

So Michael moved, bag and baggage, and found the change good. The regular, well-cooked meals gave zest to his appetite which had been going back onhim for sometime under his own economical regime, and the larger room withbetter outlook and more air, to say nothing of a comfortable bed withadjoining bath-room, and plenty of heat and light, made life seem moreworth while. Besides there were other boarders with whom he now came inpleasant contact, and there was a large pleasant parlor with easy chairsand an old-fashioned square piano which still retained much of its originalsweetness of tone. 

Mrs. Semple had a daughter Hester, an earnest, gray-eyed girl with softbrown hair and a firm little chin, who had taken an art course in CooperInstitute and painted very good pictures which, however, did not sell. Hester played the piano--not very well, it is true, but well enough to makeit pleasant to a lonely boy who had known no music in his life except thebirds or his own whistle. She played hymns on Sunday after church whilethey waited for the dinner to be ready; and evenings after supper sheplayed other things: old ballads and tender, touching melodies from oldmasters simplified, for such as she. Michael sometimes lingered a half hourbefore hurrying away to the alley, and joined his rich natural tenor withher light pretty soprano. Sometimes Will French, a young fellow who was inthe same law office and also boarded at Mrs. Semple's, stayed awhile andsang bass. It was very pleasant and made it seem more as if he were livingin a home. 

All this time Michael was carrying on his quiet work in the alley, sayingnothing about it to anybody. In the first place he felt shy about itbecause of his personal connection with the place. Not that he wished tohide his origin from his employers, but he felt he owed it to Mr. Endicottwho had recommended him, to be as respectable in their sight as possible;and so long as they neither knew nor cared it did not matter. Then, itnever occurred to Michael that he was doing anything remarkable with hislittle white room in the blackness of the stronghold of sin. Night afternight he gathered his newsboys and taught them whittling, basketry, reading, arithmetic and geography, with a little philosophy and botanythrown in unawares. Night after night the older fellows dropped in, oneor two at a time, and listened to the stories Michael told; sometimes ofcollege life and games in which they were of course interested; sometimesof Nature and his experiences in finding an alligator, or a serpent, orwatching some bird. It was wonderful how interesting he managed to makethose talks. He never realized that he was preparing in the school ofexperience to be a magnificent public speaker. With an audience asdifficult as any he could have found in the whole wide city, he managed tohold them every time. 

And the favorite theme often was agriculture. He would begin by bringing anew little plant to the room, setting it up and showing it to them; talkingabout conditions of soil and how plants were being improved. It was usuallythe _résumé_ of some article on agriculture that he had taken time to readat noon and was reviewing for their benefit. 

They heard all about Burbank and his wonderful experiments in making plantsgrow and develop, and as they listened they went and stood around theblossom that Michael had just brought to them and looked with new wonder atit. A flower was a strange enough sight in that court, but when they heardthese stories it became filled with new interest. For a little while theyforgot their evil plotting and were lifted above themselves. 

Another night the talk would be on fertilizers, and how one crop wouldsometimes give out something that another crop planted later, needed. Little by little, because he talked about the things in which he himselfwas interested, he was giving these sons of ignorance a dim knowledge ofand interest in the culture of life, and the tilling of the ground; gettingthem ready for what he had hardly as yet dared to put into words even tohimself. 

And one day he took Sam down to Old Orchard. It was the week beforeChristmas. They had made their second visit to Jim the week before and hehad spoken of the spring and when he should get out into the world again. He seemed to be planning to get even with those who had confined him forhis wrongdoing. Michael's heart was filled with anxiety for him. 

There was something about Jim that appealed to Michael from the first. 

He had seen him first standing behind the grating of his cell, a greatunkempt hulk of a fellow with fiery red hair and brown eyes that rovedrestlessly, hungrily through the corridor. He would have been handsome butfor his weak, girlish chin. Jim had melted almost to tears at sight of thescarlet geranium they had carried him on that first visit, and seemed tocare more for the appearance of his old comrade "Mikky" than ever Sam hadcared. 

Jim was to get out in April. If only there were some place for him to go!

They talked of it on the way down, Sam seemed to think that Jim would findit pretty hard to leave New York. Sam himself wasn't much interested in thecontinued, hints of Michael about going to the country. 

"Nothin' doin'" was his constant refrain when Michael tried to tell him howmuch better it would be if some of the congested part of the city could bespread out into the wide country: especially for the poor people, how muchgreater opportunity for success in life there would be for them. 

But Sam had been duly impressed with the wideness of the landscape, on thishis first long trip out of the city, and as Michael unfolded to him thestory of the gift of the farm, and his own hopes for it, Sam left off hisscorn and began to give replies that showed he really was thinking aboutthe matter. 

"Say!" said he suddenly, "ef Buck was to come back would you let him livedown to your place an' help do all them things you're plannin'?"

"I surely would, " said Michael happily. "Say, Sam, do you, or do you _not_know where Buck is?"

Sam sat thoughtfully looking out of the window. At this point he turned hisgaze down to his feet and slowly, cautiously nodded his head. 

"I thought so!" said Michael eagerly. "Sam, is he in hiding for somethinghe has done?"

Still more slowly, cautiously, Sam nodded his head once more. 

"Sam, will you send him a message from me?"

Another nod. 

"Tell him that I love him, " Michael breathed the words eagerly. His heartremembered kindness from Buck more than any other lighting of his sadchildhood. "Tell him that I want him--that I need him! Tell him that I wanthim to make an appointment to meet me somewhere and let us talk this planof mine over. I want him to go in with me and help me make that farm intoa fit place to take people who haven't the right kind of homes, where theycan have honest work and good air and be happy! Will you tell him?"

And Sam nodded his head emphatically. 

"An' Jim'll help too ef Buck goes. That's dead sure!" Sam volunteered. 

"And Sam, I'm counting on you!"

"Sure thing!" said Sam. 

Michael tramped all over the place with Sam, showing him everything andtelling all his plans. He was very familiar with his land now. He hadplanned the bog for a cranberry patch, and had already negotiated for thebushes. He had trimmed up the berry bushes in the garden himself duringhis various holiday trips, and had arranged with a fisherman to dump a fewhaulings of shellfish on one field where he thought that kind of fertilizerwould be effective. He had determined to use his hundred-dollar graduationpresent in fertilizer and seed. It would not go far but it would be abeginning. The work he would have to get some other way. He would have butlittle time to put to it himself until late in the summer probably, andthere was a great deal that ought to be done in the early spring. He wouldhave to be contented to go slow of course, and must remember that unskilledlabor is always expensive and wasteful; still it would likely be all hecould get. Just how he would feed and house even unskilled labor was aproblem yet to be solved. 

It was a day of many revelations to Sam. For one thing even the bare snowystretch, of wide country had taken on a new interest to him since Michaelhad been telling all these wonderful things about the earth. Sam's dullbrain which up to this time had never busied itself about anything excepthow to get other men's goods away from them, had suddenly awakened to thewonders of the world. 

It was he that recognized a little colony of cocoons on the underside ofleaves and twigs and called attention to them. 

"Say, ain't dem some o' de critters you was showin' de fellers t'othernight?"

And Michael fell upon them eagerly. They happened to be rare specimens, andhe knew from college experience that such could be sold to advantage to themuseums. He showed Sam how to remove them without injuring them. A littlefurther on they came to a wild growth of holly, crazy with berries andburnished thorny foliage, and near at hand a mistletoe bough loaded withtiny white transparent berries. 

"Ain't dem wot dey sell fer Chris'sum greens?" Sam's city eyes picked themout at once. 

"Of course, " said Michael delighted. "How stupid of me not to have foundthem before. We'll take a lot back with us and see if we can get any pricefor it. Whatever we get we'll devote to making the house liveable. Hollyand mistletoe ought to have a good market about now. That's another idea!Why not cultivate a lot of this stuff right in this tract of land. It seemsto grow without any trouble. See! There are lots of little bushes. We'llencourage them, Sam. And say, Sam, if you hadn't come along I might neverhave thought of that. You see I needed you. "

Sam grunted in a pleased way. 

When they came to the house it looked to Michael still more desolate in thesnowy stretch of setting than it had when the grass was about it. His heartsank. 

"I don't know as we can ever do anything with the old shack, " he said, shaking his head wistfully. "It looks worse than I thought. "

"'Tain't so bad, " said Sam cheerfully. "Guess it's watertight. " He placeda speculative eye at the dusty window pane he had wiped off with his coatsleeve. "Looks dry inside. 'Twould be a heap better'n sleepin' on depavement fer some. Dat dere fire hole would take in a big lot o' wood an' Iguess dere's a plenty round de place without robbin' de woods none. "

Michael led him to the seashore and bade him look. He wanted to see whateffect it would have upon him. The coast swept wild and bleak in the coldDecember day, and Sam shivered in his thin garments. A look of awe and fearcame into his face. He turned his back upon it. 

"Too big!" he said sullenly, and Michael understood that the sea in itsvastness oppressed him. 

"Yes, there's a good deal of it, " he admitted, "but after all it's sort oflike the geranium flower. "

Sam turned back and looked. 

"H'm! I don't see nothin' like!" he grunted despairingly. 

"Why, it's wonderful! Its beyond us! We couldn't make it. Look at thatmotion! See the white tossing rim of the waves! See that soft green gray!Isn't it just the color of the little down on the geranium leaf? See thesilver light playing back and forth, and look how it reaches as far as youcan see. Now, doesn't it make you feel a little as it did when you firstlooked at the geranium?"

Michael looked down at Sam from his greater height almost wistfully. Hewanted him to understand, but Sam looked in vain. 

"Not fer mine!" he shrugged. "Gimme the posy every time. "

They walked in silence along the beach toward the flowing of the river, andSam eyed the ocean furtively as if he feared it might run up and engulfthem suddenly when they were not looking. He had seen the ocean from wharfsof course; and once stole a ride in a pilot boat out into the deep a littleway; but he had never been alone thus with the whole sea at once as thisseemed. It was too vast for him to comprehend. Still, in a misty way heknew what Michael was trying to make him understand, and it stirred himuncomfortably. 

They hired a little boat for a trifle and Michael with strong strokes rowedthem back to the farm, straight into the sunset. The sky was purple andgold that night, and empurpled the golden river, whose ripples blended intopink and lavender and green. Sam sat huddled in the prow of the boat facingit all. Michael had planned it so. The oars dipped very quietly, and Sam'ssmall eyes changed and widened and took it all in. The sun slipped lower ina crimson ball, and a flood of crimson light broke through the purple andgold for a moment and left a thin, clear line of flame behind. 

"Dere!" exclaimed Sam pointing excitedly. "Dat's like de posy. I kin see_thet_ all right!"

And Michael rested on his oars and looked back at the sunset, well pleasedwith this day's work. 

They left the boat at a little landing where its owner had promised to getit, and went back through the wood, gathering a quantity of holly branchesand mistletoe; and when they reached the city Michael found a good marketfor it, and received enough for what he had brought to more than cover theprice of the trip. The best of it was that Sam was as pleased with thebargain as if it were for his personal benefit. 

When they parted Sam wore a sprig of mistletoe in his ragged buttonhole, and Michael carried several handsome branches of holly back to his boardingplace. 

Most of this he gave to Hester Semple to decorate the parlor with, butone fine branch he kept and carried to his room and fastened it over hismirror. Then after looking at it wistfully for a long time he selected aglossy spray containing several fine large berries, cut it off and packedit carefully in a tiny box. This without name or clue to sender, headdressed in printing letters to Starr. Mr. Endicott had asked him to maila letter to her as he passed by the box the last time he had been in theoffice, and without his intention the address had been burned into hismemory. He had not expected to use it ever, but there could be no harmsurely in sending the girl this bit of Christmas greeting out of thenowhere of a world of possible people. She would never know he had sentit, and perhaps it would please her to get a piece of Christmas holly fromhome. She might think her father had sent it. It mattered not, he knew, andit helped him to think he might send this much of his thoughts over thewater to her. He pleased himself with thinking how she would look whenshe opened the box. But whether she would be pleased or not he must onlysurmise, for she would never know to thank him. Ah, well, it was as near ashe dared hope for touching life's happiness. He must be glad for what hemight have, and try to work and forget the rest. 

CHAPTER XV

Now about this time the law firm with whom Michael worked became deeplyinterested in their new "boy. " He studied hard, and seemed to know what hewas about all day. They saw signs of extraordinary talent in him. Once ortwice, thinking to make life pleasant for him, they had invited him totheir club, or to some evening's entertainment, and always Michael hadcourteously declined, saying that he had an engagement for the evening. They casually questioned Will French, the other student, who was ahappy-go-lucky; in the office because his father wished him to studysomething and not because he wanted to. Will said that Michael went outevery evening and came in late. Mrs. Semple had remarked that she oftendidn't know whether he came in at all until she saw him come down tobreakfast. 

This report and a certain look of weariness about the eyes some morningsled the senior member of the firm to look into Michael's affairs. Thenatural inference was that Michael was getting into social life toodeeply, perhaps wasting the hours in late revelry when he should havebeen sleeping. Mr. Holt liked Michael, and dreaded to see the signs ofdissipation appear on that fine face. He asked Will French to make friendswith him and find out if he could where he spent his evenings. Will readilyagreed, and at once entered on his mission with a zeal which was beyond allbaffling. 

"Hello, Endicott!" called Will as Michael reached the front door on his wayto his mission that same evening. "Where're you going? Wait, can't you, andI'll walk along with you? I was going to ask you if you wouldn't go to ashow with me this evening. I haven't anything on for to-night and it'sslow. "

As he spoke he seized his coat and hat which he had purposely left in thehall near at hand, and put them on. 

"Thank you, " said Michael, as they went out together, "I'd be glad to gowith you but I have something that can't be put off. "

"Well, go to-morrow night with me, will you? I like you and I think weought to be friends. "

Will's idea was that they would get to talking at a "show" and he couldfind out a good deal in that way. He thought it must be a girl. He had toldthe senior Holt that it was a girl of course and he wouldn't take long tospot her. It must be either a girl or revelry to take the fellow out everynight in the week so late. 

"Well, I'm sorry, " said Michael again, "but I'm afraid I have an engagementevery night. It's rather a permanent job I'm engaged in. What do you dowith your evenings?"

Will launched into a gay description of parties and entertainments to whichhe had been bidden, and nice girls he knew, hinting that he mightintroduce Michael if he was so inclined, and Michael talked on leading hisunsuspecting companion further and further from the subject of his ownevenings. Finally they came to a corner and Michael halted. 

"I turn here, " he said; "which way do you go?"

"Why, I turn too, " laughed French. "That is, if you don't object. I'm outfor a walk and I don't care much what I do. If I'm not welcome just tell meand I'll clear out. "

"Of course you're quite welcome, " said Michael; "I'm glad to have company, but the quarter I'm walking to is not a pleasant one for a walk, and indeedyou mightn't like to return alone even so early in the evening if you walkfar. I had an unpleasant encounter myself once, but I know the ways of theplace now and it's different. "

Will eyed him curiously. 

"Is it allowable to ask where we're going?" he asked in a comical tone. 

Michael laughed. 

"Certainly. If you're bound to go I'll have to tell you all about it, butI strongly advise you to turn back now, for it isn't a very savoryneighborhood, and I don't believe you'll care for it. "

"Where thou goest I will go, " mocked Will. "My curiosity is aroused. Ishall certainly go. If it's safe for you, it is for me. My good looks arenot nearly so valuable as yours, nor so noticeable. As I have no valuablesin the world, I can't be knocked down for booty. "

"You see they all know me, " explained Michael. 

"Oh, they do! And can't you introduce me? Or don't you like to?"

"I suppose I can, " laughed Michael, "if you really want me to, butI'm afraid you'll turn and run when you see them. You see they're notvery--handsome. They're not what you're used to. You wouldn't want to knowthem. "

"But you do. "

"I had to, " said Michael desperately. "They needed something and I had tohelp them!"

Up to this point Will French had been sure that Michael had fallen into thehands of a set of sharpers, but something in his companion's tone madehim turn and look, and he saw Michael's face uplifted in the light of thestreet lamp, glowing with, a kind of intent earnestness that surprised andawed him. 

"Look here, man, " he said. "Tell me who they are, and what you are doing, anyway. "

Michael told him in a few words, saying little about himself, or his reasonfor being interested in the alley in the first place. There were a fewneglected newsboys, mere kids. He was trying to teach them a few things, reading and figures and a little manual training. Something to make lifemore than a round of suffering and sin. 

"Is it settlement work?" asked French. He was puzzled and interested. 

"No, " explained Michael, "there's a settlement, but it's too far away andgot too big a district to reach this alley. It's just my own little work. "

"Who pays you for it?"

"Who pays me?"

"Yes, who's behind the enterprise? Who forks over the funds and pays youfor your job?"

Michael laughed long and loud. 

"Well, now, I hadn't thought about pay, but I guess the kiddies themselvesdo. You can't think how they enjoy it all. "

"H'm!" said French, "I think I'll go along and see how you do it. I won'tscare 'em out, will I?"

"Well, now I hadn't thought of that, " said Michael. "In fact, I didn'tsuppose you'd care to go all the way, but if you think you do, I guess itwill be all right. "

"Not a very warm welcome, I must say, " laughed Will, "but I'm going justthe same. You get me in and I'll guarantee not to scare the crowd. Have anytime left over from your studies for amusement? If you do I might come inon that. I can do tricks. "

"Can you?" said Michael looking at his unbidden guest doubtfully. "Well, we'll see. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. It's very informal. Sometimeswe don't get beyond the first step in a lesson. Sometimes I have to stopand tell stories. "

"Good!" said Will. "I'd like to hear you. "

"Oh, you wouldn't enjoy it, but there are a few books there. You might readif you get tired looking around the room. "

And so Michael and his guest entered the yellow and white room together. Michael lit the gas, and Will looked about blinking in amazement. 

Coming through the alley to the room had taken away Will's exclamatorypowers and exhausted his vocabulary. The room in its white simplicity, immaculately kept, and constantly in touch with fresh paint to hide anystray finger marks, stood out in startling contrast with the regions roundabout it. Will took it all in, paint, paper, and pictures. The tiny stoveglowing warmly, the improvised seats, the blackboard in the corner, and thebits of life as manifested in geranium, butterfly cocoons and bird's nests;then he looked at Michael, tall and fine and embarrassed, in the centre ofit all. 

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "Is this an enchanted island, or am I in myright mind?"

But before he could be answered there came the sound of mattering youngfeet and a tumult outside the door. Then eager, panting, but decorous, they entered, some with clean faces, most of them with clean hands, ormoderately so, all with their caps off in homage to their Prince; andMichael welcomed them as if he stood in a luxurious drawing room on FifthAvenue and these were his guests. 

He introduced them, and Will entered into the spirit of the affair andgreeted them chummily. They stood shyly off from him at first with greateyes of suspicion, huddled together in a group near Michael, but later whenthe lesson on the blackboard was over and Michael was showing a set ofpictures, Will sat down in a corner with a string from his pocket and beganshowing two of the boldest of the group some tricks. This took at once, andwhen he added a little sleight-of-hand pulling pennies from the hair andpockets and hands of the astonished youngsters and allowing them to keepthem after the game was over, they were ready to take him into their innercircle at once. 

When, however, Sam, who was most unaccountably late that night, sidledin alone, he looked at the stranger with eyes of belligerence; and whenMichael introduced him as his friend, Sam's eyes glinted with a jealouslight. Sam did not like Michael to have any friends of that sort. This newman had shiny boots, fine new clothes, wore his hair nicely brushed, andmanipulated a smooth handkerchief with fingers as white as any gentleman. To be sure Michael was like that, but then Michael was Michael. He belongedto them, and his clothes made him no worse. But who was this intruder? Agentleman? All gentlemen were natural enemies to Sam. 

"Come outside, " said Sam to Michael gruffly, ignoring the white hand Willheld out cordially. Michael saw there was something on his mind. 

"Will, can you amuse these kids a minute or two while I step out? I'll notbe long. "

"Sure!" said Will heartily. He hadn't had such a good time in months andwhat a story he would have to tell the senior partner in the morning. 

"Ever try to lift a fellow's hand off the top of his head? Here, you kid, sit in that chair and put your right hand flat on the top of your head. Now, sonnie, you lift it off. Pull with all your might. That's it--"

Michael's eyes shone, and even Sam grinned surreptitiously. 

"He'll do, " he said to Sam as they went out. "He was lonesome this eveningand wanted to come along with me. "

Lonesome! A fellow like that! It gave Sam a new idea to think about. Didpeople who had money and education and were used to living in clothes likethat get lonesome? Sam cast a kindlier eye back at Will as he closed thedoor. 

Alone in the dark cold entry where the wind whistled up from the river andevery crack seemed a conductor of a blast, Sam and Michael talked in lowtones:

"Say, he's lit out!" Sam's tone conveyed dismay as well as apology. 

It was a sign of Michael's real eagerness that he knew at once who wasmeant. 

"Buck?"

Sam grunted assent. 

"When?"

"Day er so ago, I tuk yer word to 'im but he'd gone. Lef' word he had a bigdeal on, an' ef it came troo all right 'e'd send fer us. You see it wan'tsafe round here no more. The police was onto his game. Thur wan't no morehidin' fer him. He was powerful sorry not to see you. He'd always thought aheap o' Mikky!"

"How long had he known I was here?" Michael's face was grave in thedarkness. Why had Buck not sent him some word? Made some appointment?

"Since you first cum back. "

"Why--oh, Sam, why didn't he let me come and see him?"

"It warn't safe, " said Sam earnestly. "Sure thing, it warn't! 'Sides--"

"Besides what, Sam?" The question was eager. 

"'Sides, he knowed you'd had edicashun, an' he knowed how you looked on hisway o' livin'. He didn't know but--"

"You mean he didn't trust me, Sam?" Sam felt the keen eyes upon him even hithe darkness. 

"Naw, he didn't tink you'd snitch on him ner nothin', but he didn't knowbut you might tink you had to do some tings what might kick it all up widhim. You'd b'en out o' tings fer years, an' you didn't know de ways o' decity. 'Sides, he ain't seed you like I done--"

"I see, " said Michael, "I understand. It's a long time and of course heonly knows what you have told him, and if there was danger, --but oh, Sam, Iwish he could go down to Old Orchard. Did you ever tell him about it, andabout my plans?"

"Sure ting I did. Tole 'im all you tole me. He said 'twar all right. Ef hecomes out on dis deal he'll be back in a while, an' he'll go down dere efyou want him. He said he'd bring a little wad back to make things go ef disdeal went troo. "

"Do you know what the deal is, Sam?"

"Sure!"

"Is it dis--is it"--he paused for a word that would convey his meaning andyet not offend--"is it--dangerous, Sam?"

"Sure!" admitted Sam solemnly as though it hurt him to pain his friend. 

"Do you mean it will make more hiding for him?"

"Sure!" emphatically grave. 

"I wish he hadn't gone!" There was sharp pain in Michael's voice. 

"I wisht so too!'" said Sam with a queer little choke to his voice, "Mebbe'twon't come off after all. Mebbe it'll git blocked. Mebbe he'll comeback. "

The anxiety in Sam's tone touched Michael, but another thought had struckhim hard. 

"Sam, " said he plucking at the others sleeve in the darkness, "Sam, tellme, what was Buck doing--before he went away. Was it all straight? Was hein the same business with you?"

Sam breathed heavily but did not answer. At last with difficulty heanswered a gruff, "Nope!"

"What was it, Sam? Won't you tell me?"

"It would be snitchin'. "

"Not to me, Sam. You know I belong to you all. "

"But you've got new notions. "

"Yes, " admitted Michael, "I can't help that, but I don't go back on you, doI?"

"No, you don't go back on we'uns, that's so. But you don't like we'sdoin's. "

"Never mind. Tell me, Sam. I think I must know. "

"He kep a gamein' den--"

"Oh, Sam!" Michael's voice was stricken, and his great athletic handgripped Sam's hard skinny one, and Sam in the darkness gripped back. 

"I knowed you'd feel thet way, " he mourned as if the fault were all in histelling. "I wisht I hadn't 'a tole yer. "

"Never mind, Sam, you couldn't help it, and I suppose I wouldn't have knownthe difference myself if I hadn't gone away. We mustn't judge Buck harshly. He'll see it the other way by and by. "

Sam straightened perceptibly. There was something in this speech that puthim in the same class with Michael. He had never before had any qualms ofconscience concerning gambling, but now he found himself almost unawaresarrayed against it. 

"I guess mebbe!" he said comfortingly, and then seeking to change thesubject. "Say, is dat guy in dere goin' along to de farm?"

"Who?"

"Why, dat ike you lef' in de room. Is he goin' down 'long when wees go?"

"Oh, Will French! No, Sam. He doesn't know anything about it yet. I maytell him sometime, but he doesn't need that. He is studying to be a lawyer. Perhaps some day if he gets interested he'll help do what I want for thealley, and all the other alleys in the city; make better laws and see thatthey're enforced. "

"Laws!" said Sam in a startled voice. "What laws!"

Laws were his natural enemies he thought. 

"Laws for better tenement houses, more room and more windows, better air, cleaner streets, room for grass and flowers, pure milk and meat, and lesscrowding and dirt. Understand?"

It was the first time Michael had gone so deep into his plans with Sam, andhe longed now to have his comradeship in this hope too. 

"Oh, sure!" said Sam much relieved that Michael had not mentioned lawsabout gambling dens and pickpockets. Sam might be willing to reform his owncourse in the brilliant wake of Michael but as yet he had not reached thepoint where he cared to see vice and dishonesty swept off the globe. 

They went slowly back to the white room to find Will French leading achorus of small urchins in the latest popular melody while they kept timewith an awkward shuffle of their ill-shod feet. 

Sam growled: "Cut it out, kids, you scratch de floor, " and Will Frenchsubsided with apologies. 

"I never thought of the floor, Endicott. Say, you ought to have a gymnasiumand a swimming pool here. "

Michael laughed. 

"I wish we had, " he declared, "but I'd begin on a bath-room. We need thatfirst of all. "

"Well, let's get one, " said Will eagerly. "That wouldn't cost so much. Wecould get some people to contribute a little. I know a man that has a bigplumbing establishment. He'd do a little something. I mean to tell himabout it. Is there any place it could be put?"

Sam followed them wondering, listening, interested, as they went outinto the hall to see the little dark hole which might with ingenuity beconverted into a bath-room, and while he leaned back against the door-jamb, hands in his pockets, he studied the face of the newcomer. 

"Guess dat guy's all right, " he reassured Michael as he helped him turn thelights out a little later, while Will waited on the doorstep whistling anew tune to his admiring following. Will had caught "de kids. "

"I say, Endicott, " he said as they walked up the noisy midnight street andturned into the avenue, "why don't you get Hester to go down there and singsometime? Sunday afternoon. She'd go. Ask her. "

And that night was the beginning of outside help for Michael's mission. 

Hester fell into the habit of going down Sunday afternoons, and soon shehad an eager following of sad-eyed women, and eager little children; andWill French spent his leisure hours in hunting up tricks and games andpuzzles, for "the kids. "

Meantime, the account he had given to Holt and Holt of the way Michaelspent his evenings, was not without fruit. 

About a week after French's first visit to the alley, the senior Mr. Holtpaused beside Michael's desk one afternoon just before going out of theoffice and laid a bit of paper in his hand. 

"French tells me you're interested in work in the slums, " he said in thesame tone he used to give Michael an order for his daily routine. "I'dlike to help a little if you can use that. " He passed on out of the officebefore Michael had fully comprehended what had been said. The young manlooked down at the paper and saw it was a check made out to himself for onehundred dollars!

With a quick exclamation of gratitude he was on his feet and out into thehall after his employer. 

"That's all right, Endicott. I don't get as much time as I'd like to lookafter the charities, and when I see a good thing I like to give it a boost. Call on me if you need money for any special scheme. And I'll mention it tosome of my clients occasionally, " said the old lawyer, well pleased withMichael's gratitude. 

He did, and right royally did the clients respond. Every little while aten-dollar bill or a five, and now and then a check for fifty would findits way to Michael's desk; for Will French, thoroughly interested, keptHolt and Holt well supplied with information concerning what was needed. 

CHAPTER XVI

Before the winter was over Michael was able to put in the bath-room and hadbought a plow and a number of necessary farm implements, and secured theservices of a man who lived near Old Orchard to do some early plowing andplanting. He was able also to buy seeds and fertilizer, enough at least tostart his experiment; and toward spring, he took advantage of a holiday, and with Sam and a carpenter went down to the farm and patched up the oldhouse to keep out the rain. 

After that a few cots, some boxes for chairs and tables, some cheapcomfortables for cool nights, some dishes and cooking utensils from theten-cent store, and the place would be ready for his alley-colony when heshould dare to bring them down. A canvas cot and a wadded comfortable wouldbe luxury to any of them. The only question was, would they be contentedout of the city?

Michael had read many articles about the feasibility of taking the poor ofthe cities into the country, and he knew that experience had shown theywere in most cases miserable to get back again. He believed in his heartthat this might be different if the conditions were made right. In thefirst place they must have an environment full of new interest to supplythe place of the city's rush, and then they must have some great objectwhich they would be eager to attain. He felt, too, that they should beprepared beforehand for their new life. 

To this end he had been for six months spending two or three hours a weekwith five or six young fellows Sam had tolled in. He had brought theagricultural papers to the room, and made much of the illustrations. Theboys as a rule could not read, so he read to them, or rather translatedinto their own slang-ful English. He told them what wonders had beenattained by farming in the right way. As these fellows had little notionabout farming in any way, or little knowledge of farm products save asthey came to them through the markets in their very worst forms, it becamenecessary to bring cabbages and apples, and various other fruits andvegetables for their inspection. 

One night he brought three or four gnarled, little green-skinned, sour, speckled apples, poorly flavored. He called attention to them verycarefully, and then because an apple was a treat, however poor it might be, he asked them to notice the flavor as they ate. Then he produced three orfour magnificent specimens of apple-hood, crimson and yellow, with polishedskin and delicious flavor, and set them in a row on the table beside somemore of the little specked apples. They looked like a sunset beside aditch. The young men drew around the beautiful apples admiringly, feelingof their shiny streaks as if they half thought them painted, and listeningto the story of their development from the little sour ugly specimens theyhad just been eating. When it came to the cutting up of the perfect applesevery man of them took an intelligent pleasure in the delicious fruit. 

Other nights, with the help of Will and Hester, Michael gave demonstrationsof potatoes, and other vegetables, with regular lessons on how to get thebest results with these particular products. Hester managed in some skilfulmanner to serve a very tasty refreshment from roasted potatoes, cooked justright, at the same time showing the difference in the quality between thesoggy potatoes full of dry rot, and those that were grown under the rightconditions. Occasionally a cup of coffee or some delicate sandwiches helpedout on a demonstration, of lettuce or celery or cold cabbage in the formof slaw, and the light refreshments served with the agricultural lessonsbecame a most attractive feature of Michael's evenings. More and more youngfellows dropped in to listen to the lesson and enjoy the plentiful "eats"as they called them. When they reached the lessons on peas and beans thesplit pea soup and good rich bean soup were ably appreciated. 

Not that all took the lessons with equal eagerness, but Michael began tofeel toward spring that his original five with Sam as their leader woulddo comparatively intelligent work on the farm, the story of which had beengradually told them from night to night, until they were quite eager toknow if they might be included in those who were to be pioneers in thework. 

Will French faithfully reported the condition of the work, and more andmore friends and clients of the office would stop at Michael's desk andchat with him for a moment about the work, and always leave something withhim to help it along. Michael's eyes shone and his heart beat high withhopes in these days. 

But there was still a further work for him to do before his crudeapprentices should be ready to be sent down into the wilds of nature. 

So Michael began one evening to tell them of the beauty and the wonderof the world. One night he used a cocoon as illustration and for threeevenings they all came with bated breath and watched the strange littleinsignificant roll, almost doubting Michael's veracity, yet full ofcuriosity, until one night it burst its bonds and floated up into the whiteceiling, its pale green, gorgeously marked wings working a spell upon theirhearts, that no years could ever make them quite forget. It was the miracleof life and they had never seen it nor heard of it before. 

Another night he brought a singing bird in a cage, and pictures of otherbirds who were naturally wild. He began to teach them the ways of the birdsthey would see in New Jersey, how to tell their songs apart, where to lookfor their nests; all the queer little wonderful things that a bird loverknows, and that Michael because of his long habits of roaming about thewoods knew by heart. The little bird in its cage stayed in the yellow andwhite room, and strange to say thrived, becoming a joy and a wonder toall visitors, and a marvel to those who lived in the court because of itscontinuous volume of brilliant song, bursting from a heart that seemed tobe too full of happiness and must bubble over into music. The "kids" andeven the older fellows felt a proprietorship in it, and liked to come andstand beneath the cage and call to it as it answered "peep" and peekedbetween the gilded bars to watch them. 

One night, with the help of Will French who had some wealthy friends, Michael borrowed a large picture of a sunset, and spoke to them about thesunlight and its effects on growing things, and the wonder of its departurefor the night. 

By this time they would listen in awed silence to anything Michael said, though the picture was perhaps one too many for most of them. Sam, however, heard with approval, and afterwards went up reverently and laid his fingeron the crimson and the purple and the gold of the picture. Sam knew, andunderstood, for he had seen the real thing. Then he turned to the othersand said:

"Say, fellers, it's aw-right. You wait till yer see one. Fine ez silk, an'twicet as nateral. "

One big dark fellow who had lately taken to coming to the gatherings, turned scornfully away, and replied: "Aw shucks! I don't see nodding init!" but loyalty to Michael prevented others who might have secretlyfavored this view from expressing it, and the big dark fellow found himselfin the minority. 

And so the work went on. Spring was coming, and with it the end of Jim's"term, " and the beginning of Michael's experiment on the farm. 

Meantime Michael was working hard at his law, and studying half thenight when he came back from the alley work. If he had not had an ironconstitution, and thirteen years behind him of healthy out-door life, withplenty of sleep and exercise and good food, he could not have stood it. Asit was, the hard work was good for him, for it kept him from brooding overhimself, and his own hopeless love of the little girl who was far acrossthe water. 

Some weeks after Christmas there had come a brief note from Starr, his namewritten in her hand, the address in her father's. 

"Dear Michael, " it read, --

"I am just almost sure that I am indebted to you for the lovely littlesprig of holly that reached me on Christmas. I have tried and tried tothink who the sender might be, for you see I didn't know the writing, orrather printing. But to-day it fell down from over the picture where I hadfastened, it on the wall, and I noticed what I had not seen before, 'AHappy Christmas' in the very tiny little letters of the message cut orscratched on the under side of the stem; and the letters reminded me of youand the charming little surprises you used to send me long ago from Floridawhen I was a little girl. Then all at once I was sure it was you who sentthe holly, and I am sitting right down to write and thank you for it. Yousee I was very lonesome and homesick that Christmas morning, for most ofthe girls in the school had gone home for Christmas, and mamma, who hadbeen intending to come and take me away to Paris for the holidays, hadwritten that she was not well and couldn't come after all, so I knew Iwould have to be here all through the gay times by myself. I was feelingquite doleful even with the presents that mamma sent me, until I opened thelittle box and saw the dear little bright holly berries; that cheered me upand made me think of home. I kept it on my desk all day so that the brightberries would make me feel Christmassy, and just before dinner that nightwhat do you think happened? Why, my dear daddy came to surprise me, and wetook the loveliest trip together, to Venice and Florence and Rome. It wasbeautiful! I wish you could have been along and seen everything. I know youwould have enjoyed it. I must not take the time to write about it because Iought to be studying. This is a very pleasant place and a good school but Iwould rather be at home, and I shall be glad when I am done and allowed tocome back to my own country. 

"Thanking you ever so much for the pretty little Christmas reminder, foryou see I am sure you sent it, and wishing you a belated Happy New Year, Iam

"Your friend, "STARR DELEVAN ENDICOTT. "

Michael read and re-read the letter, treasured the thoughts and visionsit brought him, pondered the question of whether he might answer it, anddecided that he had no right. Then he put it away with his own heartache, plunging into his work with redoubled energy, and taking an antidote of somany pages of Blackstone when his thoughts lingered on forbidden subjects. So the winter fled away and spring came stealing on apace. 

CHAPTER XVII

As Michael had no definite knowledge of either his exact age, or what monthhis birthday came, there could be no day set for his coming of age. Thelittle information that could be gathered from his own memory of how manysummers and winters he had passed showed that he was approximately sevenyears old at the time of the shooting affray. If that were correct it wouldmake him between nineteen and twenty at the time of his graduation. 

On the first day of July following his first winter in New York Michaelreceived a brief letter from Mr. Endicott, containing a check for athousand dollars, with congratulations on his majority and a request thathe call at the office the next day. 

Michael, eager, grateful, overwhelmed, was on hand to the minute appointed. 

The wealthy business man, whose banking affairs had long since rightedthemselves, turned from his multifarious duties, and rested his eyes uponthe young fellow, listening half-amused to his eager thanks. 

The young man in truth was a sight to rest weary eyes. 

The winter in New York had put new lines into his face and deepened thewells of his blue eyes; they were the work of care and toil and suffering, but--they had made a man's face out of a boy's fresh countenance. There waspower in the fine brow, strength in the firm, well-moulded chin, and bothkindliness and unselfishness in the lovely curves of his pleasant lips. Thecity barber had been artist enough not to cut the glorious hair too shortwhile yet giving it the latest clean cut curve behind the ears and in theneck. By instinct Michael's hands were well cared for. Endicott's tailorhad looked out for the rest. 

"That's all right, son, " Endicott cut Michael's sentence short. "I'mpleased with the way you've been doing. Holt tells me he never had a morepromising student in his office. He says you're cut out for the law, andyou're going to be a success. But what's this they tell me about youspending your evenings in the slums? I don't like the sound of that. Bettercut that out. "

Michael began to tell in earnest protesting words of what he was trying todo, but Endicott put up an impatient hand:

"That's all very well, son, I've no doubt they appreciate your help and allthat, and it's been very commendable in you to give your time, but now youowe yourself something, and you owe the world something. You've got to turnout a great lawyer and prove to the world that people from that districtare worth helping. That's the best way in the long run to help thosepeople. Give them into somebody else's hands now. You've done your part. When you get to be a rich man you can give them something now and then ifyou like, but it's time to cut out the work now. That sort of thing mightbe very popular in a political leader, but you've got your way to make andit's time you gave your evenings to culture, and to going out into societysomewhat. Here's a list of concerts and lectures for next winter. You oughtto go to them all. I'm sorry I didn't think of it this winter, but perhapsit was as well not to go too deep at the start. However, you ought to wasteno more time. I've put your application in for season tickets for thosethings on that list, and you'll receive tickets in due time. There's an artexhibition or two where there are good things to be seen. You've got to seeand hear everything if you want to be a thoroughly educated man. I saida word or two about you here and there, and I think you'll receive someinvitations worth accepting pretty soon. You'll need a dress suit, and Ihad word sent to the tailor about it this morning when it occurred to me--"

"But, " said Michael amazed and perturbed, "I do not belong in society. People do not want one like me there. If they knew they would not ask me. "

"Bosh! All bosh! Didn't I tell you to cut that out? People don't know andyou've no need to tell them. They think you are a distant relative of mineif they think anything about it, and you're not to tell them you are not. You owe it to me to keep still about it. If I guarantee you're all rightthat ought to suit anybody. "

"I couldn't go where people thought I was more than I was, " said Michael, head up, eyes shining, his firmest expression on his mouth, but intensetrouble in his eyes. It was hard to go against his benefactor. 

"You got all those foolish notions from working down there in the slums. You're got a false idea of yourself and a false notion of right and wrong. It's high time you stopped going there. After you've been to a dance or twoand a few theatre suppers, and got acquainted with some nice girls who'llinvite you to their house-parties you'll forget you ever had anything to dowith the slums. I insist that you give that work up at once. Promise me youwill not go near the place again. Write them a letter--"

"I couldn't do that!" said Michael, his face expressive of anguish fightingwith duty. 

"Couldn't! Nonsense. There is no such word. I say I want you to do it. Haven't I proved my right to make that request?"

"You have, " said Michael, dropping his sorrowing eyes slowly, and takingout the folded check from his pocket. "You have the right to ask it, but Ihave no right to do what you ask. I have begun the work, and it would notbe right to stop it. Indeed, I couldn't. If you knew what it means to thosefellows--but I cannot keep this if you feel that way! I was going to use itfor the work--but now--"

Michael's pauses were eloquent. Endicott was deeply touched but he wouldnot show it. He was used to having his own way, and it irritated, while itpleased him in a way, to have Michael so determined. As Michael stoppedtalking he laid the check sadly on the desk. 

"Nonsense!" said Endicott irritably, "this has nothing to do with thecheck. That was your birthday present. Use it as you like. What I havegiven I have given and I won't take back even if I have nothing more to dowith you from this time forth. I have no objection to your giving away asmuch money as you can spare to benevolent institutions, but I say that I doobject to your wasting your time and your reputation in such low places. It will injure you eventually, it can't help it. I want you to take yourevenings for society and for lectures and concerts--"

"I will go to the concerts and lectures gladly, " said Michael gravely. "I can see they will be fine for me, and I thank you very much for theopportunity, but that will not hinder my work. It begins always rather latein the evening, and there are other times--"

"You've no business to be staying out in places like that after the hour ofclosing of decent places of amusement. "

Michael refrained from saying that he had several times noticed societyladies returning from balls and entertainments when he was on his way home. 

"I simply can't have it if I'm to stand back of you. "

"I'm, sorry, " said Michael. "You won't ever know how sorry I am. It was sogood to know that I had somebody who cared a little for me. I shall miss itvery much. It has been almost like having a real father. Do you mean thatyou will have to give up the--fatherliness?"

Endicott's voice shook with mingled emotions. It couldn't be that thisyoung upstart who professed to be so grateful and for whom he had done somuch would actually for the sake of a few wretched beings and a sentimentalfeeling that he belonged in the slums and ought to do something for them, run the risk of angering him effectually. It could not be!

"It means that I shall not do any of the things I had planned to do foryou, if you persist in refusing my most reasonable request. Listen, youngman--"

Michael noticed with keen pain that he had dropped the customary "son" fromhis conversation, and it gave him a queer choky sensation of having beencut off from the earth. 

"I had planned"--the keen eyes searched the beautiful manly face before himand the man's voice took on an insinuating tone; the tone he used when hewished to buy up some political pull; the tone that never failed to buy hisman. Yet even as he spoke he felt an intuition that here was a man whom hecould not buy--

"I had planned to do a good many things for you. You will be through yourstudies pretty soon and be ready to set up for yourself. Had you thoughtahead enough to know whether you would like a partnership in some old firmor whether you want to set up for yourself?"

Michael's voice was grave and troubled but he answered at once:

"I would like to set up for myself, sir. There are things I must do, and Ido not know if a partner would feel as I do about them. "

"Very well, " said Endicott with satisfaction. He could not but be pleasedwith the straightforward, decided way in which the boy was going ahead andshaping his own life. It showed he had character. There was nothing Mr. Endicott prized more than character--or what he called character: "Verywell, when you get ready to set up for yourself, and I don't think thatis going to be so many years off from what I hear, I will provide you anoffice, fully furnished, in the most desirable quarter of the city, andstart you off as you ought to be started in order to win. I will introduceyou to some of my best friends, and put lucrative business in your way, business with the great corporations that will bring you into immediateprominence; then I will propose your name for membership in two or threegood clubs. Now those things I will do because I believe you have it in youto make good; but you'll need the boosting. Every man in this city does. Genius alone can't work you up to the top; but I can give you what you needand I mean to do it, only I feel that you on your part ought to be willingto comply with the conditions. "

There was a deep silence in the room. Michael was struggling to master hisvoice, but when he spoke it was husky with suppressed feeling:

"It is a great plan, " he said. "It is just like you. I thank you, sir, forthe thought, with all my heart. It grieves me more than anything I ever hadto do to say no to you, but I cannot do as you ask. I cannot give up whatI am trying to do. I feel it would be wrong for me. I feel that it isimperative, sir!"

"Cannot! Humph! Cannot! You are like all the little upstart reformers, filled with conceit of course. You think there is no one can do the workbut yourself! I will pay some one to do what you are doing! Will thatsatisfy you?"

Michael slowly shook his head. 

"No one could do it for pay, " he said with conviction. "It must be donefrom--perhaps it is love--I do not know. But anyway, no one was doing it, and I must, for THEY ARE MY PEOPLE!"

As he said this the young man lifted his head with that angel-proud look ofhis that defied a universe to set him from his purpose, and Endicott whilehe secretly reveled in the boy's firmness and purpose, yet writhed that hecould not control this strength as he would. 

"Your people! Bosh! You don't even know that! You may be the son of therichest man in New York for all you know. "

"The more shame mine, then, if he left me where you found me! Mr. Endicott, have you ever been down in the alley where I used to live? Do you know theconditions down there?"

"No, nor I don't want to go. And what's more I don't want you to go again. Whatever you were or are, you ought to see that you are mine now. Why, youngster, how do you know but you were kidnapped for a ransom, and thegame went awry? There are a thousand explanations of your unknown presencethere. You may have been lost--"

"Then have I not a debt to the people with whom I lived!"

"Oh, poppycock!" exclaimed the man angrily. "We'd better close theconversation. You understand how I feel. If you think it over and changeyour mind come back and tell me within the week. I sail Saturday forEurope. I may not be back in three or four months. If you don't makeup your mind before I go you can write to me here at the office and mysecretary will forward it. You have disappointed me beyond anything I couldhave dreamed. I am sure when you think it over you will see how wrong youare and change your mind. Until then, good-bye!"

Michael arose dismissed, but he could not go that way. 

"I shall not change my mind, " he said sadly, "but it is terrible not tohave you understand. Won't you let me tell you all about it? Won't you letme explain?"

"No, I don't want to hear any explanations. There is only one thing for meto understand and that is that you think more of a set of vagabonds in analley than you do of my request!"

"No! That is not true!" said Michael. "I think more of you than of anyliving man. I do not believe I could love you more if you were my ownfather. I would give my life for you this minute--"

"There is an old word somewhere that says, 'To obey is better thansacrifice. ' Most people think they would rather be great heroes than do thesimple every-day things demanded of them. The test does not always provethat they would--"

Michael's head went up almost haughtily, but there were great tears in hiseyes. Endicott dropped his own gaze from that sorrowful face. He knew hiswords were false and cruel. He knew that Michael would not hesitate asecond to give his life. But the man could not bear to be withstood. 

"If you feel that way I cannot take this!" Michael sadly, proudly held outthe check. 

"As you please!" said Endicott curtly. "There's the waste-basket. Put it inif you like. It isn't mine any longer. You may spend it as you please. Myconditions have nothing to do with what is past. If you do not prize mygift to you by all means throw it away. "

With a glance that would have broken Endicott's heart if he had not beentoo stubborn to look up, Michael slowly folded the check and put it backinto his pocket. 

"I do prize it, " he said, "and I prize it because you gave it to me. Itmeant and always will mean a great deal to me. "

"H'm!"

"There is one more thing perhaps I ought to tell you, " hesitated Michael"The farm. I am using it in my work for those people. Perhaps you will notapprove of that--"

"I have nothing further to do with the farm. You bought it, I believe. Youdesired to pay for it when you were earning enough money to be able to doso. That time has not yet come, therefore nothing further need be said. Itis your farm and you may use it as a pleasure park for pigs if you like. Idon't go back on my bargains. Good afternoon. "

Endicott turned to the 'phone, took up the receiver and called up a number. Michael saw that the conversation was ended. Slowly, with heavy step andheavier heart, he went out of the office. 

There were new lines of sadness on Michael's face that day, and when hewent down to the alley that evening his gentleness with all the little"kids, " and with the older ones, was so great that they looked at him morethan once with a new kind of awe and wonder. It was the gentleness ofsacrifice, of sacrifice for them, that was bringing with it the pain oflove. 

Old Sal who came over to "look in" that evening, as she put it, shook herhead as she stumped back to her rejuvenated room with its gaudy floweredwall, bit of white curtain and pot of flowers in the window, all the workof Michael and his follower Sam. 

"I'm thinkin' he'll disuppeer one o' these days. Ye'll wake up an' he'llbe gahn. He's not of this worrld. He'll sprid his wings an' away. He's aman-angel, thet's wot he is!"

Michael went home that night and wrote a letter to Mr. Endicott that wouldhave broken a heart of stone, telling his inmost thought; showing his loveand anguish in every sentence; and setting forth simply and unassuminglythe wonderful work he was doing in the alley. 

But though he waited in anxiety day after day he received not a word ofreply. Endicott read the letter every word, and fairly gloated over theboy's strength, but he was too stubborn to let it be known. Also he ratherenjoyed the test to which he was putting him. 

Michael even watched the outgoing vessels on Saturday, looked up thepassenger lists, went down to the wharf and tried to see him before hesailed, but for some reason was unable to get in touch with him. 

Standing sadly on the wharf as the vessel sailed he caught sight ofEndicott, but though he was sure he had been seen he received no sign ofrecognition, and he turned away sick at heart, and feeling as if he had forconscience's sake stabbed one that loved him. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Those were trying days for Michael. 

The weather had turned suddenly very warm. The office was sometimesstifling. The daily routine got upon his nerves, he who had never beforeknown that he had nerves. There was always the aching thought that Starrwas gone from him--forever--and now he had by his own word cut loose fromher father--forever! His literal heart saw no hope in the future. 

About that time, too, another sorrow fell upon him. He was glancing overthe paper one morning on his way to the office, and his eye fell on thefollowing item:

 LONE TRAIN BANDIT HURT IN FIGHT AFTER GETTING LOOT

 Captured by Conductor After He Had Rifled Mail Bags on Union Pacific Express

 Topeka, Kan. , July--. A daring bandit was captured last night a he had robbed the mail car on Union Pacific train No. ---- which left Kansas City for Denver at 10 o'clock. 

 The train known as the Denver Express, carrying heavy mail, was just leaving Kansas City, when a man ran across the depot platform and leaped into the mail car through the open door. The clerk in charge faced the man, who aimed a revolver at him. He was commanded to bind and gag his five associates, and obeyed. The robber then went through all the registered pouches, stuffing the packages into his pockets. Then he commanded the clerk to untie his comrades. 

 At Bonner Springs where the train made a brief stop the bandit ordered the men to continue their work, so as not to attract the attention of persons at the station. When Lawrence was reached the robber dropped from the car and ran toward the rear of the train. The conductor summoned two Lawrence policemen and all three followed. After a quick race, and a struggle during which the bandit's arm was broken, he was captured. It appears that the prisoner is an old offender, for whom the police of New York have been searching in vain for the past ten months. He is known in the lower districts of New York City as "Fighting Buck, " and has a list of offenses against him too numerous to mention. 

Michael did not know why his eye had been attracted to the item nor why hehad read the article through to the finish. It was not the kind of thinghe cared to read; yet of late all crime and criminals had held a sort ofsorrowful fascination for him. "It is what I might have done if I hadstayed in the alley, " he would say to himself when he heard of someterrible crime that had been committed. 

But when he reached the end of the article and saw Buck's name his heartseemed to stand still. 

Buck! The one of all his old comrades whom he had loved the most, who hadloved him, and sacrificed for him; to whom he had written and sent money;whose brain was brighter and whose heart bigger than any of the others; forwhom he had searched in vain, and found only to lose before he had seenhim; whom he had hoped yet to find and to save. Buck had done this, and wascaught in his guilt. And a government offense, too, robbing the mail bags!It would mean long, hard service. It would mean many years before Michaelcould help him to the right kind of life, even if ever. 

He asked permission to leave the office that afternoon, and took the traindown to the farm where Sam had been staying for some weeks. He read thearticle to him, hoping against hope that Sam would say there was somemistake; would know somehow that Buck was safe. But Sam listened withlowering countenance, and when the reading was finished he swore a greatoath, such as he had not uttered before in Michael's presence, and Michaelknew that the story must be true. 

Nothing could be done now. The law must have its course, but Michael'sheart was heavy with the weight of what might have been if he could buthave found Buck sooner. The next day he secured permission to begin hisvacation at once, and in spite of great need of his presence at Old Orchardhe took the train for Kansas. He felt that he must see Buck at once. 

All during that long dismal ride Michael's heart was beating over and overwith the story of his own life. "I might have done this thing. I would havedared and thought it brave if I had not been taught better. I might be evennow in jail with a broken arm and a useless life: the story of my crimemight be bandied through the country in the newspapers if it had not beenfor Mr. Endicott--and little Starr! And yet I have hurt his feelings andalienated his great kindness by refusing his request. Was there no otherway? Was there no other way?" And always his conscience answered, "Therewas no other way!"

Michael, armed with a letter from the senior Holt to a powerful memberof western municipal affairs, found entrance to Buck in his miserableconfinement quite possible. He dawned upon his one-time friend, out of thedarkness of the cell, as a veritable angel of light. Indeed, Buck, wakingfrom a feverish sleep on his hard little cot, moaning and cursing with thepain his arm was giving him, started up and looked at him with awe andhorror! The light from the corridor caught the gold in Michael's hair andmade his halo perfect; and Buck thought for the moment that some new terrorhad befallen him, and he was in the hands of the angel of death sent tosummon him to a final judgment for all his misdeeds. 

But Michael met his old friend with tenderness, and a few phrases that hadbeen wont to express their childish loyalty; and Buck, weakened by thefever and the pain, and more than all by his own defeat and capture, brokedown and wept, and Michael wept with him. 

"It might have been me instead of you, Buck. If I had stayed behind, I'dhave done all those things. I see it clearly. I might have been lying hereand you out and free. Buck, if it could give you my chance in life, andhelp you see it all as I do I'd gladly lie here and take your place. "

"Mikky! Mikky!" cried Buck. "It's me own Mikky! You was allus willin' totake de rubs! But, Mikky, ef you'd hed de trainin' you'd hev made de finerobber! You'd hev been a peach an' no mistake!"

Michael had found a soft spot in the warden's heart and succeeded in doinga number of little things for Buck's comfort. He hunted up the chaplain andsecured a promise from him to teach Buck to read and write, and also toread to him all letters that Buck received, until such a time as he shouldbe able to read them for himself. He sent a pot of roses with buds and fullbloom to perfume the dark cell, and he promised to write often; while Buckon his part could only say over and over; "Oh, Mikky! Mikky! Ef we wos oneykids agin! Oh, Mikky, I'll git out o' here yit an' find ye. Ye'll not beashamed o' me. Ef I oney hadn't a bungled de job. It were a bum job! Mikky!A bum job!"

Michael saw that there was little use in talking to Buck about his sin. Buck had nothing whatever to build upon in the line of morals. To be loyalto his friends, and to do his "work" so that he would not get caught wereabsolutely the only articles in his creed. To get ahead of the rich, totake from them that which was theirs if he could, regardless of life orconsequences, that was virtue; the rich were enemies, and his daring codeof honor gave them the credit of equal courage with himself. They mustoutwit him or lose. If they died it was "all in the day's work" and theirloss. When his turn came he would take his medicine calmly. But the troublewith Buck now was that he had "bungled the job. " It was a disgrace on hisprofession. Things had been going against him lately, and he was "down onhis luck. "

Michael went back from the West feeling that the brief time allowed himwith Buck was all too short for what he wanted to do for him; yet he feltthat it had been worth the journey. Buck appreciated his sympathy, if hedid not have an adequate sense of his own sinfulness. Michael had talkedand pitied and tried to make Buck see, but Buck saw not, and Michael wenthome to hope and write and try to educate Buck through sheer love. It wasall he saw to do. 

It was about this time that Michael began to receive money in small sums, anonymously, through the mail. "For your work" the first was labelled andthe remittances that followed had no inscriptions. They were not alwaysaddressed in the same hand, and never did he know the writing. Sometimesthere would be a ten-dollar bill, sometimes a twenty, and often more, and they came irregularly, enclosed in a thin, inner envelope of foreignlooking paper. Michael wondered sometimes if Starr could have sent them, but that was impossible of course, for she knew nothing of his work, and they were always postmarked New York. He discovered that such thinforeign-looking envelopes could be had in New York, and after that heabandoned all idea of trying to solve the mystery. It was probably somequeer, kind person who did not wish to be known. He accepted the helpgladly and broadened his plans for the farm accordingly. 

Sam and his five friends had gone down early in the spring, bunking in theold house, and enjoying the outing immensely. Under Sam's captaincy, andthe tutelage of an old farmer whom Michael had found, who could not workmuch himself but could direct, the work had gone forward; Michael himselfcoming down Saturdays, and such of the tail ends of the afternoons as hecould get. It is true that many mistakes were made through ignorance, andmore through stupidity. It is true that no less than five times the wholegang went on a strike until Michael should return to settle some disputebetween the new scientific farming that he had taught them, and some oldsuperstition, or clumsy practice of the farmer's. But on the whole they didtolerably good work. 

The farm colony had been meantime increasing. Michael picked them up inthe alley; they came to him and asked to be taken on for a trial. They hadheard of the experiment through Sam, or one of the other boys who had comeback to the city for a day on some errand for the farm. 

One glorious summer morning Michael took ten small eager newsboys downto pick wild strawberries for the day, and they came back dirty, tired, strawberry streaked, and happy, and loudly sang the praises of Old Orchardas though it had been a Heaven. After that Michael had no trouble intransplanting any one he wished to take with him. 

He found a poor wretch who had lately moved with his family to one of thecrowded tenements in the alley. He was sodden in drink and going topieces fast. Michael sobered him down, found that he used to be a mastercarpenter, and forthwith transplanted him to Old Orchard, family and all. 

Under the hand of the skilled carpenter there sprang up immediately acolony of tents and later small one-roomed shacks or bungalows. Michaelbought lumber and found apprentices to help, and the carpenter of thecolony repaired barns and outhouses, fences, or built shacks, whenever thehead of affairs saw fit to need another. 

The only person in the whole alley whom Michael had invited in vain to thefarm was old Sally. She had steadily refused to leave her gaily paperedroom, her curtained window and her geranium. It was a symbol of "ouldIreland" to her, and she felt afraid of this new place of Michael's. Itseemed to her superstitious fancy like an immediate door to a Heaven, fromwhich she felt herself barred by her life. It assumed a kind of terror toher thoughts. She was not ready to leave her little bit of life and takechances even for Michael. And so old Sal sat on her doorstep and watchedthe alley dwellers come and go, listening with interest to each new accountof the farm, but never willing to see for herself. Perhaps the secret ofher hesitation after all went deeper than superstition. She had receivedprivate information that Old Orchard had no Rum Shop around the corner. OldSally could not run any risks, so she stayed at home. 

But the carpenter's wife was glad to cook for the men when the busy days ofplanting and weeding and harvesting came, and the colony grew and grew. Twoor three other men came down with their families, and helped the carpenterto build them little houses, with a bit of garden back, and a bed offlowers in front. They could see the distant sea from their tiny porches, and the river wound its salty silver way on the other hand. It was a greatchange from the alley. Not all could stand it, but most of them bore thesummer test well. It would be when winter set its white distance upon them, chilled the flowers to slumber, and stopped the labor that the testing timewould come; and Michael was thinking about that. 

He began hunting out helpers for his purposes. 

He found a man skilled in agricultural arts and secured his services tohold a regular school of agriculture during the winter for the men. Hefound a poor student at Princeton who could run up on the train daily andgive simple lessons in reading and arithmetic. He impressed it upon Sam andthe other young men that unless they could read for themselves enough tokeep up with the new discoveries in the science other farmers would getahead of them and grow bigger potatoes and sweeter ears of corn than theydid. He kept up a continual sunny stream of eager converse with them aboutwhat they were going to do, and how the place was going to grow, until theyfelt as if they owned the earth and meant to show the world how well theywere running it. In short, he simply poured his own spirit of enthusiasminto them, and made the whole hard summer of unaccustomed labor one greatgame; and when the proceeds from their first simple crops came in from thesale of such products as they did not need for their own use in the colony, Michael carefully divided it among his various workmen and at his wish theywent in a body and each started a bank account at the little National Bankof the town. It was a very little of course, absurdly little, but it madethe workers feel like millionaires, and word of the successes went back tothe city, and more and more the people were willing to come down, until byfall there were thirty-eight men, women and children, all told, living onthe farm. 

Of course that made little appreciable difference in the population of thealley, for as soon as one family moved out another was ready to move in, and there was plenty of room for Michael's work to go on. Nevertheless, there were thirty-eight souls on the way to a better knowledge of life, with clean and wholesome surroundings and a chance to learn how to read andhow to work. 

The carpenter was set to get ready more tiny houses for the next summer'scampaign, the tents were folded away, the spring wheat was all in; the fallplowing and fertilizing completed and whatever else ought to be done toa farm for its winter sleep; half a dozen cows were introduced into thesettlement and a roomy chicken house and run prepared. Sam set aboutstudying incubators, and teaching his helpers. Then when the cranberrieswere picked the colony settled down to its study. 

The Princeton student and the agricultural student grew deeply interestedin their motley school, and finally produced a young woman who came downevery afternoon for a consideration, and taught a kindergarten, to whichmany of the prematurely grown-up mothers came also with great delight andprofit, and incidentally learned how to be better, cleaner, wiser mothers. The young woman of her own accord added a cooking school for the women andgirls. 

Once a week Michael brought down some one from New York to amuse these poorchildish people. And so the winter passed. 

Once a wealthy friend of Mr. Holt asked to be taken down to see the place, and after going the rounds of the farm and making himself quite friendlyroasting chestnuts around the great open fire in the "big house, " as theoriginal cottage was called, returned to New York with many congratulationsfor Michael. A few days afterward he mailed to Michael the deed of theadjoining farm of one hundred acres, and Michael, radiant, wondering, beganto know that his dreams for his poor downtrodden people were coming true. There would be room enough now for many a year to come for the people heneeded to bring down. 

Of course this had not all been done without discouragements. Some of themost hopeful of the colonists had proved unmanageable, or unwilling towork; some had run away, or smuggled in some whiskey. There had been twoor three incipient rows, and more than double that number of disappointingenterprises, but yet, the work was going on. 

And still, there came no word from Mr. Endicott. 

Michael was holding well with his employers, and they were beginning totalk to him of a partnership with them when he was done, for he had faroutstripped French in his studies, and seemed to master everything hetouched with an eagerness that showed great intellectual appetite. 

He still kept up his work in the little white room in the alley, evenings, though he divided his labors somewhat with Will French, Miss Semple andothers who had heard of the work and had gradually offered their services. It had almost become a little settlement or mission in itself. The oneroom had become two and a bath; then the whole first floor with a smallgymnasium. French was the enthusiastic leader in this, and Hester Semplehad done many things for the little children and women. The next set ofcolonists for Michael's farm were always being got ready and were spoken ofas "eligibles" by the workers. 

Hester Semple had proved to be a most valuable assistant, ever ready withsuggestions, tireless and as enthusiastic as Michael himself. Night afternight the three toiled, and came home happily together. The associationwith the two was very sweet to Michael, whose heart was famished forfriends and relations who "belonged, " But it never occurred to Michael tolook on Miss Semple in any other light than friend and fellow worker. 

Will French and Michael were coming home from the office one afternoontogether, and talking eagerly of the progress at the farm. 

"When you get married, Endicott, " said Will, "you must build a handsomebungalow or something for your summer home, down there on that knoll justoverlooking the river where you can see the sea in the distance. "

Michael grew sober at once. 

"I don't expect ever to be married, Will, " he said after a pause, with oneof his far-away looks, and his chin up, showing that what he had said wasan indisputable fact. 

"The Dickens!" said Will stopping in his walk and holding up Michael. "Shehasn't refused you, has she?"

"Refused me? Who? What do you mean?" asked Michael looking puzzled. 

"Why, Hester--Miss Semple. She hasn't turned you down, old chap?"

"Miss Semple! Why, Will, you never thought--you don't think she everthought--?"

"Well, I didn't know, " said Will embarrassedly, "it looked pretty much likeit sometimes. There didn't seem much show for me. I've thought lately youhad it all settled and were engaged sure. "

"Oh, Will, " said Michael in that tone that showed his soul was moved to itsdepth. 

"I say, old chap!" said Will, "I'm fiercely sorry I've butted in to youraffairs. I never dreamed you'd feel like this. But seeing I have, wouldyou mind telling me if you'll give me a good send off with Hester? Sort of'bless-you-my-son, ' you know; and tell me you don't mind if I go ahead andtry my luck. "

"With all my heart, Will. I never thought of it, but I believe it would begreat for you both. You seem sort of made for each other. "

"It's awfully good of you to say so, " said Will, "but I'm afraid Hesterdoesn't think so. She's all taken up with you. "

"Not at all!" said Michael eagerly. "Not in the least. I've never noticedit. I'm sure she likes you best. "

And it was so from that night that Michael almost always had some excusefor staying later at the room, or for going somewhere else for a littlewhile so that he would have to leave them half way home; and Hester andWill from that time forth walked together more and more. Thus Michael tookhis lonely way, cut off from even this friendly group. 

And the summer and the winter made the second year of the colony at OldOrchard. 

Then, the following spring Starr Endicott and her mother came home andthings began to happen. 

CHAPTER XIX

Starr was eighteen when she returned, and very beautiful. Society was madeat once aware of her presence. 

Michael, whose heart was ever on the alert to know of her, and to find outwhere Mr. Endicott was, saw the first notice in the paper. 

Three times had Endicott crossed the water to visit his wife and daughterduring their stay abroad, and every time Michael had known and anxiouslyawaited some sign of his return. He had read the society columns now fortwo years solely for the purpose of seeing whether anything would be saidabout the Endicott family, and he was growing wondrously wise in the waysof the society world. 

Also, he had come to know society a little in another way. 

Shortly after his last interview with Endicott Miss Emily Holt, daughter ofthe senior member of the firm of Holt and Holt, had invited Michael to dinewith her father and herself; and following this had come an invitation to ahouse party at the Holts' country seat. This came in the busy season of thefarm work; but Michael, anxious to please his employers, took a couple ofdays off and went. And he certainly enjoyed the good times to the full. Hehad opportunity to renew his tennis in which he had been a master hand, andto row and ride, in both of which he excelled. Also, he met a number ofpleasant people who accepted him for the splendid fellow he looked to beand asked not who he was. Men of his looks and bearing came not in theirway every day and Michael was good company wherever he went. 

However, when it came to the evenings, Michael was at a loss. He could notdance nor talk small talk. He was too intensely in earnest for society'sways, and they did not understand. He could talk about the books he hadread, and the things he had thought, but they were great thoughts and notat all good form for a frivolous company to dwell upon. One did not want aproblem in economics or a deep philosophical question thrust upon one at adance. Michael became a delightful but difficult proposition for the girlspresent, each one undertaking to teach him how to talk in society, but eachin turn making a miserable failure. At last Emily Holt herself set out togive him gentle hints on light conversation and found herself deep in adiscussion of Wordsworth's poems about which she knew absolutely nothing, and in which Michael's weary soul had been steeping itself lately. 

Miss Holt retired in laughing defeat, at last, and advised her protégé totake a course of modern novels. Michael, always serious, took her at herword, and with grave earnestness proceeded to do so; but his course endedafter two or three weeks. He found them far from his taste, the most ofthem too vividly portraying the sins of his alley in a setting of highlife. Michael had enough of that sort of thing in real life, and felthe could not stand the strain of modern fiction, so turned back to hisWordsworth again and found soothing and mental stimulus. 

But there followed other invitations, some of which he accepted and someof which he declined. Still, the handsome, independent young Adonis wasin great demand in spite of his peculiar habit of always being in earnestabout everything. Perhaps they liked him and ran after him but the morebecause of his inaccessibility, and the fact that he was really doingsomething in the world. For it began to be whispered about among those whoknew--and perhaps Emily Holt was the originator--that Michael was goingto be something brilliant in the world of worth-while-things one of thesedays. 

The tickets that Endicott promised him had arrived in due time, and anxiousto please his benefactor, even in his alienation, Michael faithfullyattended concerts and lectures, and enjoyed them to the full, borrowingfrom his hours of sleep to make up what he had thus spent, rather than fromhis work or his study. And thus he grew in knowledge of the arts, and inlove of all things great, whether music, or pictures, or great minds. 

Matters stood thus when Starr appeared on the scene. 

The young girl made her début that winter, and the papers were full ofher pictures and the entertainments given in her honor. She was dined anddanced and recepted day after day and night after night, and no débutantehad ever received higher praise of the critics for beauty, grace, and charmof manner. 

Michael read them all, carefully cut out and preserved a few pleasantthings that were written about her, looked at the pictures, and turned fromthe pomp and pride of her triumph to the little snapshot of herself onhorseback in the Park with her groom, which she had sent to him when shewas a little girl. That was his, and his alone, but these others belongedto the world, the world in which he had no part. 

For from all this gaiety of society Michael now held aloof. Invitationshe received, not a few, for he was growing more popular every day, but hedeclined them all. A fine sense of honor kept him from going anywhere thatStarr was sure to be. He had a right, of course, and it would have beenpleasant in a way to have her see that he was welcome in her world; butalways there was before his mental vision the memory of her mother's bitingwords as she put him down from the glorified presence of her world, into anexistence of shame and sin and sorrow. He felt that Starr was so far abovehim that he must not hurt her by coming too near. And so, in deference tothe vow that he had taken when the knowledge of his unworthiness had firstbeen presented to him, he stayed away. 

Starr, as she heard more and more of his conquests in her world, wonderedand was piqued that he came not near her. And one day meeting him by chanceon Fifth Avenue, she greeted him graciously and invited him to call. 

Michael thanked her with his quiet manner, while his heart was in a tumultover her beauty, and her dimpled smiles that blossomed out in the oldchildish ways, only still more beautifully, it seemed to him. He went inthe strength of that smile many days: but he did not go to call upon her. 

The days passed into weeks and months, and still he did not appear, andStarr, hearing more of his growing inaccessibility, determined to show theothers that she could draw him out of his shell. She humbled her Endicottpride and wrote him a charming little note asking him to call on one of the"afternoons" when she and her mother held court. But Michael, though hetreasured the note, wrote a graceful, but decided refusal. 

This angered the young woman, exceedingly, and she decided to cut him outof her good graces entirely. And indeed the whirl of gaiety in whichshe was involved scarcely gave her time for remembering old friends. Inoccasional odd moments when she thought of him at all, it was with a vaguekind of disappointment, that he too, with all the other things of herchildhood, had turned out to be not what she had thought. 

But she met him face to face one bright Sunday afternoon as she walked onthe avenue with one of the many courtiers who eagerly attended her everystep. He was a slender, handsome young fellow, with dark eyes and hair andreckless mouth. There were jaded lines already around his youthful eyes andlips. His name was Stuyvesant Carter. Michael recognized him at once. Hispicture had been in the papers but the week before as leader with Starr ofthe cotillion. His presence with her in the bright sunny afternoon was toMichael like a great cloud of trouble looming out of a perfect day. Helooked and looked again, his expressive eyes searching the man before himto the depths, and then going to the other face, beautiful, innocent, happy. 

Michael was walking with Hester Semple. 

Now Hester, in her broadcloth tailored suit, and big black hat with plumes, was a pretty sight, and she looked quite distinguished walking besideMichael, whose garments seemed somehow always to set him off as if they hadbeen especially designed for him; and after whom many eyes were turned ashe passed by. 

Had it been but the moment later, or even three minutes before, Will Frenchwould have been with them and Michael would have been obviously a thirdmember of the party, for he was most careful in these days to let them bothknow that he considered they belonged together. But Will had stopped amoment to speak to a business acquaintance, and Hester and Michael werewalking slowly ahead until he should rejoin them. 

"Look!" said Hester excitedly. "Isn't that the pretty Miss Endicott whosepicture is in the papers so much? I'm sure it must be, though she's tentimes prettier than any of her pictures. "

But Michael needed not his attention called. He was already looking withall his soul in his eyes. 

As they came opposite he lifted his hat with, such marked, deference toStarr that young Stuyvesant Carter turned and looked at him insolently, with a careless motion of his own hand toward his hat. But Starr, withbrilliant cheeks, and eyes that looked straight at Michael, continued herconversation with her companion and never so much as by the flicker of aneyelash recognized her former friend. 

It was but an instant in the passing, and Hester was so taken up withlooking at the beauty of the idol of society that she never noticedMichael's lifted hat until they were passed. Then Will French joined thembreezily. 

"Gee whiz, but she's a peach, isn't she?" he breathed as he took his placebeside Hester, and Michael dropped behind, "but I suppose it'll all ruboff. They say most of those swells aren't real. "

"I think she's real!" declared Hester. "Her eyes are sweet and her smileis charming. The color on her cheeks wasn't put on like paint. I just loveher. I believe I'd like to know her. She certainly is beautiful, and shedoesn't look a bit spoiled. Did you ever see such eyes?"

"They aren't half as nice as a pair of gray ones I know, " said Will lookingmeaningfully at them as they were lifted smiling to his. 

"Will, you mustn't say such things--on the street--anyway--and Michaeljust behind--Why, where is Michael? See! He has dropped away behind andis walking slowly. Will, does Michael know Miss Endicott? I never thoughtbefore about their names being the same. But he lifted his hat to her--andshe simply stared blankly at him as if she had never seen him before. "

"The little snob!" said Will indignantly. "I told you they were allartificial. I believe they are some kind of relation or other. Come tothink of it I believe old Endicott introduced Michael into our office. Maybe she hasn't seen him in a long time and has forgotten him. "

"No one who had once known Michael could ever forget him, " said Hester withconviction. 

"No, I suppose that's so, " sighed Will, looking at her a trifle wistfully. 

After the incident of this meeting Michael kept more and more aloof fromeven small entrances into society; and more and more he gave his time tostudy and to work among the poor. 

So the winter passed in a round of gaieties, transplanted for a few weeksto Palm Beach, then back again to New York, then to Tuxedo for the summer, and Michael knew of it all, yet had no part any more in it, for now she hadcut him out of her life herself, and he might not even cherish her brightsmiles and words of the past. She did not wish to know him. It was right, it was just; it was best; but it was agony!

Michael's fresh color grew white that year, and he looked more like theman-angel than ever as he came and went in the alley; old Sally from herdoorstep, drawing nearer and nearer to her own end, saw it first, andcalled daily attention to the spirit-look of Michael as he passed. 

One evening early in spring, Michael was starting home weary and unusuallydiscouraged. Sam had gone down to the farm with Jim to get ready for thespring work, and find out just how things were going and what was neededfrom the city. Jim was developing into a tolerably dependable fellow savefor his hot temper, and Michael missed them from, the alley work, for therooms were crowded now every night. True Hester and Will were faithful, butthey were so much taken up with one another in these days that he did notlike to trouble them with unusual cases, and he had no one with whom tocounsel. Several things had been going awry and he was sad. 

Hester and Will were ahead walking slowly as usual. Michael locked the doorwith a sigh and turned to follow them, when he saw in the heavy shadowson the other side of the court two figures steal from one of the openingsbetween the houses and move along toward the end of the alley. Something intheir demeanor made Michael watch them instinctively. As they neared theend of the alley toward the street they paused a moment and one of thefigures stole back lingeringly. He thought he recognized her as a girlcursed with more than the usual amount of beauty. She disappeared into thedarkness of the tenement, but the other after looking back a moment kept ontoward the street. Michael quickened his steps and came to the corner atabout the same time, crossing over as the other man passed the light andlooking full in his face. 

To his surprise he saw that the man was Stuyvesant Carter!

With an exclamation of disgust and horror Michael stepped full in thepathway of the man and blocked, his further passage. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked in tones that would have made a braveman tremble. 

Stuyvesant Carter glared at the vision that had suddenly stopped his way, drew his hat down over his evil eyes and snarled: "Get out of my way oryou'll be sorry! I'm probably doing the same thing that you're doing here!"

"Probably not!" said Michael with meaning tone. "You know you can mean nogood to a girl like that one you were just with. Come down here again atyour peril! And if I hear of you're having anything to do with that girlI'll take means to have the whole thing made public. "

"Indeed!" said young Carter insolently. "Is she your girl? I think not! Andwho are you anyway?"

"You'll find out if you come down here again!" said Michael his fingersfairly aching to grip the gentlemanly villain before him. "Now get out ofhere at once or you may not be able to walk out. "

"I'll get out when I like!" sneered the other, nevertheless backing rapidlyaway through the opening given him. When he had reached a safe distance, headded, tantalizingly: "And I'll come back when I like, too. "

"Very well, I shall be ready for you, Mr. Carter!"

Michael's tones were clear and distinct and could be heard two blocks awayin the comparative stillness of the city night. At sound of his real namespoken fearlessly in such environment, the leader of society slid away intothe night as if he had suddenly been erased from the perspective; nor didsound of footsteps linger from his going. 

"Who was dat guy?"

It was a small voice that spoke at Michael's elbow. Hester and Will werefar down the street in the other direction and had forgotten Michael. 

Michael turned and saw one of his smallest "kids" crouching in the shadowbeside him. 

"Why, Tony, are you here yet? You ought to have been asleep long ago. "

"Was dat de ike wot comes to see Lizzie?"

"See here, Tony, what do you know about this?"

Whereupon Tony proceeded, to unfold a tale that made Michael's heart sick. "Lizzie, she's got swell sence she went away to work to a res'trant at desheeshole. She ain't leavin' her ma hev her wages, an' she wears fiercedoes, like de swells!" finished Tony solemnly as if these things were theworst of all that he had told. 

So Michael sent Tony to his rest and went home with a heavy heart, to wakeand think through the night long what he should do to save Starr, hisbright beautiful Starr, from the clutches of this human vampire. 

When morning dawned Michael knew what he was going to do. He had decided togo to Mr. Endicott and tell him the whole story. Starr's father could andwould protect her better than he could. 

As early as he could get away from the office he hurried to carry out hispurpose, but on arriving at Mr. Endicott's office he was told that thegentleman had sailed for Austria and would be absent some weeks, evenmonths, perhaps, if his business did not mature as rapidly as he hoped. Michael asked for the address, but when he reached his desk again and triedto frame a letter that would convey the truth convincingly to the absentfather, who could not read it for more than a week at least, and wouldthen be thousands of miles away from the scene of action, he gave it up asuseless. Something more effectual must be done and done quickly. 

In the first place he must have facts. He could not do anything until heknew beyond a shadow of doubt that what he feared was true absolutely. Ifhe could have told Mr. Endicott all would have been different; he was a manand could do his own investigating if he saw fit. Michael might have leftthe matter in his hands. But he could not tell him. 

If there was some other male member of the family to whom he could go withthe warning, he must be very sure of his ground before he spoke. If therewere no such man friend or relative of the family he must do somethingelse--what? He shrank from thinking. 

And so with the sources open to a keen lawyer, he went to work to ferretout the life and doings of Stuyvesant Carter; and it is needless to saythat he unearthed a lot of information that was so sickening in its naturethat he felt almost helpless before it. It was appalling--and the more sobecause of the rank and station of the man. If he had been brought up inthe slums one might have expected--but this!

The second day, Michael, haggard and worn with the responsibility, startedout to find that useful male relative of the Endicott family. There seemedto be no such person. The third morning he came to the office determinedto tell the whole story to Mr. Holt, senior, and ask his advice and aid inprotecting Starr; but to his dismay he found that Mr. Holt, senior, hadbeen taken seriously ill with heart trouble, and it might be weeks beforehe was able to return to the office. 

Deeply grieved and utterly baffled, the young man tried to think what to donext. The junior Mr. Holt had never encouraged confidences, and would notbe likely to help in this matter. He must do something himself. 

And now Michael faced two alternatives. 

There were only two people to whom the story could be told, and they wereStarr herself, and her mother!

Tell Starr all he knew he could not. To tell her anything of this storywould be gall and wormwood! To have to drop a hint that would blackenanother man's character would place him in a most awkward position. Tothink of doing it was like tearing out his heart for her to trample upon. 

Yet on the other hand Michael would far rather go into battle and face athousand bristling cannon mouths than meet the mother on her own ground andtell her what he had to tell, while her steel-cold eyes looked him throughand through or burned him with scorn and unbelief. He had an instinctivefeeling that he should fail if he went to her. 

At last he wrote a note to Starr:

"Dear Miss Endicott:

"Can you let me have a brief interview at your convenience and just as soonas possible? I have a favor to ask of you which I most earnestly hope youwill be willing to grant. 

"Sincerely yours, "Michael. "

He sent the note off with fear and trembling. Every word had been carefullyconsidered and yet it haunted him continually that he might have writtendifferently. Would she grant the interview? If she did not what then shouldhe do?

The next day he received a ceremonious little note on creamy paper crestedwith a silver star monogramed in blue:

"Miss Endicott will receive Mr. Endicott to-morrow morning at eleven. "

A shiver ran through him as he read, and consigned the elegantcommunication to his waste-basket. It was not from his Starr. It was froma stranger. And yet, the subtle perfume that stole forth from the envelopereminded him of her. On second thought he drew it forth again and put it inhis pocket. After all she had granted the interview, and this bit of paperwas a part of her daily life; it had come from her, she had written it, andsent it to him. It was therefore precious. 

Starr had been more than usually thoughtful when she read Michael's note. It pleased her that at last she had brought him to her feet, though not forthe world would she let him know it. Doubtless he wished her influence forsome position or other that he would have asked her father instead if hehad been at home. Starr knew nothing of the alienation between her fatherand Michael. But Michael should pay for his request, in humility at least. Therefore she sent her cool little stab of ceremony to call him to her. 

But Michael did not look in the least humiliated as he entered theluxurious library where Starr had chosen to receive him. His manner wasgrave and assured, and he made no sign of the tumult it gave him to see herthus in her own home once more where all her womanliness and charm were butenhanced by the luxury about her. 

He came forward to greet her just as if she had not cut him dead the verylast time they met; and Starr as she regarded him was struck with wonderover the exalted beauty of manhood that was his unique dower. 

"Thank you for letting me come, " he said simply. "I will not intrude longupon your time--"

Starr had a strange sensation of fear lest he was going to slip away fromher again before she was willing. 

"Oh, that is all right, " she said graciously; "won't you sit down. I amalways glad to do a favor for a friend of my childhood. "

It was a sentence she had rehearsed many times in her mind, and it wasmeant to convey reproach and indifference in the extreme, but somehowas she fluttered into a great leather chair she felt that her voice wastrembling and she had miserably failed in what she had meant to do. Shefelt strangely ashamed of her attitude, with those two dear soulful eyeslooking straight at her. It reminded her of the way he had looked when hetold her in the Florida chapel long ago that nobody but herself had everkissed him--and she had kissed him then. Suppose he should be going to askher to do it again! The thought made her cheeks rosy, and her society airdeserted her entirely. But of course he would not do that. It was a crazythought. What was the matter with her anyway, and why did she feel sounnerved? Then Michael spoke. 

"May I ask if you know a man by the name of Stuyvesant Carter?"

Starr looked startled, and then stiffened slightly. 

"I do!" she answered graciously. "He is one of my intimate friends. Isthere anything he can do for you that you would like my intercession?"

Starr smiled graciously. She thought she understood the reason forMichael's call now, and she was pleased to think how easily she could granthis request. The idea of introducing the two was stimulating. She waspondering what a handsome pair of men they were, and so different from eachother. 

But Michael's clear voice startled her again out of her complacence. 

"Thank God there is not!" he said, and his tone had that in it that madeStarr sit up and put on all her dignity. 

"Indeed!" she said with asperity, her eyes flashing. 

"Pardon me, Miss Endicott, " Michael said sadly. "You do not understand myfeeling, of course!"

"I certainly do not. " All Starr's icicle sentences were inherited from hermother. 

"And I cannot well explain, " he went on sadly. "I must ask you to take iton trust. The favor I have come to ask is this, that you will not haveanything further to do with that young man until your father's return. Iknow this may seem very strange to you, but believe me if you understoodyou would not hesitate to do what I have asked. "

Michael held her with his look and with his earnest tones. For a moment shecould not speak from sheer astonishment at his audacity. Then she froze himwith a look copied from her mother's haughty manner. 

"And what reason can you possibly give for such an extraordinary request?"she asked at last, when his look compelled an answer. 

"I cannot give you a reason, " he said gravely. "You must trust me that thisis best. Your father will explain to you when he comes. "

Another pause and then Starr haughtily asked:

"And you really think that I would grant such a ridiculous request whichin itself implies a lack of trust in the character of one of my warmestfriends?"

"I most earnestly hope that you will, " answered Michael. 

In spite of her hauteur she could not but be impressed by Michael's manner. His grave tones and serious eyes told hear heart that here was somethingout of the ordinary, at least she gave Michael credit for thinking therewas. 

"I certainly shall not do anything of the kind without a good reason forit. " Starr's tone was determined and cold. 

"And I can give you no reason beyond telling you that he is not such a manas a friend of yours should be. "

"What do you mean?"

"Please do not ask me. Please trust me and give me your promise. At leastwait until I can write to your father. "

Starr rose with a look of her father's stubbornness now in her pretty face. 

"I wish to be told, " she demanded angrily. 

"You would not wish to be told if you knew, " he answered. 

She stood looking at him steadily for a full moment, then with a gracefultoss of her lovely head, she said haughtily:

"I must decline to accede to your request, Mr. Endicott. You will excuseme, I have a luncheon engagement now. "

She stood aside for him to go out the door, but as he rose with pleadingstill in his eyes, he said:

"You will write to your father and tell him what I have said? You will waituntil you hear from him?"

"It is impossible, Mr. Endicott. " Starr's tone was freezing now, and hecould see that she was very angry. "Mr. Carter is my friend!" she flung athim as he passed her and went out into the hall. 

Another night of anguish brought Michael face to face with the necessityfor an interview with Starr's mother. 

Taking his cue from the hour Starr had set for his call, he went a littlebefore eleven o'clock and sent up the card of the firm with his own namewritten below; for he had very serious doubts of obtaining an interview atall if the lady thought he might be there on his own business. 

It is doubtful whether Mrs. Endicott recognized the former "Mikky"under the title written below his most respectable law firm's name. Anyrepresentative of Holt and Holt was to be recognized of course. She camedown within a half hour, quite graciously with lorgnette in her hand, untilshe had reached the centre of the reception room where he had been putto await her. Then Michael arose, almost from the same spot where she hadaddressed him nearly four years before, the halo of the morning shiningthrough the high window on his hair, and with a start and stiffening of herwhole form she recognized him. 

"Oh, it is _you_!" There was that in her tone that argued ill for Michael'smission, but with grave and gentle bearing he began:

"Madam, I beg your pardon for the intrusion. I would not have come if therehad been any other way. I tried to find Mr. Endicott but was told he hadsailed--"

"You needn't waste your time, and mine. I shall do nothing for you. As Itold you before, if I remember, I think far too much already has been donefor you and I never felt that you had the slightest claim upon our bounty. I must refuse to hear any hard luck stories. "

Michael's face was a study. Indignation, shame and pity struggled with asudden sense of the ridiculousness of the situation. 

What he did was to laugh, a rich, clear, musical laugh that stopped thelady's tirade better than he could have done it in any other way. 

"Well! Really! Have you come to insult me?" she said angrily. "I will calla servant, " and she stepped curtly toward the bell. 

"Madam, I beg your pardon, " said Michael quickly, grave at once. "Iintended no insult and I have come to ask no favor of you. I came becauseof a serious matter, perhaps a grave danger to your home, which I thoughtyou should be made acquainted with. "

"Indeed! Well, make haste, " said Mrs. Endicott, half mollified. "My time isvaluable. Has some one been planning to rob the house?"

Michael looked straight in her face and told her briefly a few facts, delicately worded, forcefully put, which would have convinced the heart ofany true mother that the man before her had none but pure motives. 

Not so this mother. The more Michael talked the stiffer, haughtier, morehateful, grew her stare; and when he paused, thinking not to utterlyoverwhelm her with his facts, she remarked, superciliously:

"How could you possibly know all these things, unless you had been in thesame places where you claim Mr. Carter has been? But, oh, of course Iforgot! Your former home was there, and so of course you must have manyfriends among--ah--_those people_!" She drew her mental skirts away fromcontaminating contact as she spoke the last two words, and punctuated themwith a contemptuous look through the lorgnette. 

"But, my dear fellow, " she went on adopting the most outrageouslypatronizing manner, "you should never trust those people. Of course youdon't understand that, having been away from them so many years amongrespectable folks, but they really do not know what the truth is. I doubtvery much whether there is a grain of foundation for all that you have beentelling me. "

"Madam, I have taken pains to look into the matter and I know thatevery word which I have been telling you is true. Two of the meet noteddetectives of the city have been making an investigation. I would not haveventured to come if I had not had indisputable facts to give you. "

Mrs. Endicott arose still holding the lorgnette to her eyes, though sheshowed that the interview was drawing to a close:

"Then young man, " she said, "it will be necessary for me to tell you thatthe things you have been saying are not considered proper to speak ofbefore ladies in respectable society. I remember of course your low originand lack of breeding and forgive what otherwise I should consider aninsult. Furthermore, let me tell you, that it is not considered honorableto investigate a gentleman's private life too closely. All young men sowtheir wild oats of course, and are probably none the worse for it. In fact, if a man has not seen life he really is not worth much. It is his ownaffair, and no business of yours. I must ask you to refrain from sayinganything of this matter to anyone. Understand? Not a word of it! My husbandwould be deeply outraged to know that a young friend of his daughter's, aman of refinement and position, had been the object of scandal by one whoshould honor anyone whom he honors. I really cannot spare any more timethis morning. "

"But madam! You certainly do not mean that you will not investigate thismatter for yourself? You would not let your daughter accept such a man asher friend--?"

The lorgnette came into play again but its stare was quite ineffectualupon Michael's white earnest face. His deep eyes lit with horror at thismonstrous woman who seemed devoid of mother-love. 

"The time has come for you to stop. It is none of your business what Imean. You have done what you thought was your duty by telling me, now putthe matter entirely out of your mind. Desist at once!"

With a final stare she swept out of the room and up the broad staircase andMichael, watching her until she was out of sight, went out of the housewith bowed head and burdened heart. Went out to write a letter to Starr'sfather, a letter which would certainly have performed its mission as hisother efforts had failed; but which because of a sudden and unexpectedchange of address just missed him at every stopping place, as it travelledits silent unfruitful way about the world after him, never getting anywhereuntil too late. 

CHAPTER XX

Starr was very angry with Michael when he left her. There was perhaps morehurt pride and pique in her anger than she would have cared to own. He hadfailed to succumb to her charms, he had not seemed to notice her as othermen did; he had even lost the look of admiration he used to wear when theywere boy and girl. He had refused utterly to tell her what she had a greatcuriosity to know. 

She had been sure, was sure yet, that if Michael would tell her what hehad against Stuyvesant Carter she could explain it satisfactorily. Herflattered little head was almost turned at this time with the adoration shehad received. She thought she knew almost everything that Stuyvesant Carterhad ever done. He was a fluent talker and had spent many hours detailingto her incidents and anecdotes of his eventful career. He had raced a gooddeal and still had several expensive racing cars. There wasn't anythingvery dreadful about that except, of course, it was dangerous. He used togamble a great deal but he had promised her he would never do it any morebecause she thought it unrefined. Of course it wasn't as though he hadn'tplenty of money; and her mother had told her that all young men did thosethings. No, not her father of course, for he had been unusual, but timeswere different nowadays. Young men were expected to be a little wild. Itwas the influence of college life and a progressive age she supposed. Itdidn't do any harm. They always settled down and made good husbands afterthey were married. Michael of course did not understand these things. Hehad spent a great many years in Florida with a dear old professor and a lotof good little boys. Michael was unacquainted with the ways of the world. 

Thus she reasoned, yet nevertheless Michael's warning troubled her andfinally she decided to go to the best source of information and ask theyoung man himself. 

Accordingly three days after Michael's visit when he dropped in to ask ifshe would go to the opera that evening with him instead of something elsethey had planned to do together, she laughingly questioned him. 

"What in the world can you ever have done, Mr. Carter, that should make youunfit company for me?"

She asked the question lightly yet her eyes watched his face most closelyas she waited for the answer. 

The blood rolled in dark waves over his handsome face and his brows grewdark with anger which half hid the start of almost fear with which heregarded her. 

"What do you mean, Starr?" He looked at her keenly and could not tell ifshe were in earnest or not. 

"Just that, " she mocked half gravely. "Tell me what you have been doingthat should make you unfit company for me? Some one has been trying tomake me promise to have nothing to do with you, and I want to know what itmeans. "

"Who has been doing that?" There were dangerous lights in the dark eyes, lights that showed the brutality of the coward and the evildoer. 

"Oh, a man!" said Starr provokingly; "but if you look like that I shan'ttell you anything more about it, I don't like you now. You look as if youcould eat me. You make me think there must be something in it all. "

Quick to take the warning the young man brought his face under control andbroke into a hoarse artificial laugh. A sudden vision of understanding hadcome to him and a fear was in his heart. There was nothing like being boldand taking the bull by the horns. 

"I'll wager I can explain the riddle for you, " he said airily. "I lost myway the other evening coming home late. You see there had been some mistakeand my car didn't come to the club for me. I started on foot, leaving wordfor it to overtake me--" He lied as he went along. He had had a shortlifetime of practice and did it quite naturally and easily, "and I wasthinking about you and how soon I dared ask you a certain question, whenall at once I noticed that things seemed sort of unfamiliar. I turned togo back but couldn't for the life of me tell which way I had turned at thelast corner--you see what a dangerous influence you have over me--andI wandered on and on, getting deeper and deeper into things. It wasn'texactly a savory neighborhood and I wanted to get out as soon as possiblefor I suspected that it wasn't even very safe down there alone at that hourof the night. I was hesitating under a street light close to a dark alley, trying to decide which would be the quickest way out, and meditating what Ishould do to find a policeman, when suddenly there loomed up beside me inthe dark out of the depths of the alley a great tall brute of a fellow withthe strangest looking yellow hair and a body that looked as if he couldplay football with the universe if he liked, and charged me with havingcome down there to visit his girl. 

"Well, of course the situation wasn't very pleasant. I tried to explainthat I was lost; that I had never been down in that quarter of the citybefore and didn't even know his girl. But he would listen to nothing. Hebegan to threaten me. Then I took out my card and handed it to him, mostunwisely of course, but then I am wholly unused to such situations, and Iexplained to him just who I was and that of course I wouldn't want to cometo see _his_ girl, even if I would be so mean, and all that. But do youbelieve me, that fellow wouldn't take a word of it. He threw the card onthe sidewalk, ground his heel into it, and used all sorts of evil languagethat I can't repeat, and finally after I thought he was going to put me inthe ditch and pummel me he let me go, shouting after me that if I ever camenear his girl again he would publish it in the newspapers. Then of courseI understood what a foolish thing I had done in giving him my card. But itwas too late. I told him as politely as I knew how that if he would show methe way to get home I would never trouble him again, and he finally let mego. "

Starr's eyes were all this time quizzically searching his face. "Was theman intoxicated?" she asked. 

"Oh, I presume so, more or less. They all are down there, though he was notof the slums himself I should say. He was rather well dressed, and probablyangry that I had discovered him in such haunts. "

"When did this happen?"

"About a week ago. "

"Why didn't you tell me about it before?"

"Oh I didn't want to distress you, and besides, I've had my mind too fullof other things. Starr, darling, you must have seen all these weeks howmuch I love you, and how I have only been waiting the proper opportunity toask you to be my wife--"

Starr was in a measure prepared for this proposal. Her mother hadinstructed her that the alliance was one wholly within the pale of wisdom;and her own fancy was quite taken up with this handsome new admirer whoflattered her hourly and showered attentions upon her until she felt quitecontent with herself the world and him. There was a spice of daring aboutStarr that liked what she thought was the wildness and gaiety of youngCarter, and she had quite made up her mind to accept him. 

One week later the society papers announced the engagement, and theworld of gaiety was all in a flutter, over the many functions that wereimmediately set agoing in their honor. 

Michael, at his desk in the busy office, read, and bowed his head inanguish. Starr, his bright beautiful Starr, to be sacrificed to a beastlike that! Would that he might once more save her to life and happiness!

For the next few days Michael went about in a state that almost borderedon the frantic. His white face looked drawn, and his great eyes burned intheir clear setting like live coals. People turned to look after him on thestreet and exclaimed: "Why, look at that man!" and yet he seemed more likean avenging angel dropped down for some terrible errand than like a plainordinary man. 

Mr. Holt noticed it and spoke to him about it. 

"You ought to drop work and take a good vacation, Endicott, " he saidkindly. "You're in bad shape. You'll break down and be ill. If I were inyour place I'd cancel the rent of that office and not try to start out foryourself until fall. It'll pay you in the end. You're taking things tooseriously. "

But Michael smiled and shook his head. He was to open his own office thefollowing week. It was all ready, with its simple furnishings, in markedcontrast to the rooms that would have been his if he had acceded to hisbenefactor's request. But Michael had lost interest in office and workalike, and the room seemed now to him only a refuge from the eyes of menwhere he might hide with his great sorrow and try to study out some way tosave Starr. Surely, surely, her father would do something when he receivedhis letter! It was long past, time for an answer to have come. But thenthere was the hope that he was already doing something, though he wasunwilling to afford Michael the satisfaction of knowing it. 

He gave much thought to a possible cablegram, that he might send, thatwould tell the story to the father while telling nothing to the world, butabandoned the idea again and again. 

Sam came up from the farm and saw Michael's face and was worried. 

"Say, pard, wot yer bin doin' t'yersef? Better come down t' th' farm an'git a bit o' fresh air. "

The only two people who did not notice the change in Michael's appearancewere Hester and Will. They were too much engrossed in each other by thistime to notice even Michael. 

They had fallen into the habit of leaving the rooms in the alley earlierthan Michael and going home by themselves. 

They left him thus one night about three weeks after Starr's engagement hadbeen announced. Michael stayed in the room for an hour after all the othershad gone. He was expecting Sam to return. Sam had been up from the farmseveral times lately and this time without any apparent reason he hadlingered in the city. He had not been to the room that night save for tenminutes early in the evening when he had mumbled something about a littlebusiness, and said he would be back before Michael left. 

Michael sat for a long time, his elbow on the table, his head in his hands, trying to think. A way had occurred to him which might or might not dosomething to prevent Starr from throwing away her happiness. The morningpaper had hinted that plans for a speedy wedding were on foot. It wasrumored that Miss Endicott was to be married as soon as her father reachedhome. Michael was desperate. He feared that now the father would arrive toolate for him to get speech with him. He had begun to know that it was hardto convince people of the evil of those they had chosen as friends. Itwould take time. 

There was a way. He might have the whole story published in the papers. Apublic scandal would doubtless delay if not altogether put a stop to thisalliance; but a public scandal that touched Mr. Carter would now also touchand bring into publicity the girl whose life was almost linked with his. Not until the very last resort would Michael bring about that publicity. That such a move on his part would beget him the eternal enmity of theentire Endicott family he did not doubt, but that factor figured not at allin Michael's calculations. He was not working for himself in this affair. Nothing that ever happened could make things right for him, he felt, andwhat was his life, or good name even, beside Starr's happiness?

Wearily, at last, his problem unsolved, he got up and turned out thelights. As he was locking the door his attention was arrested by twofigures standing between himself and the street light at the end of thealley. It was a man and a woman, and the woman seemed to be clinging to theman and pleading with him. 

Such sights were not uncommon in the alley; some poor woman often thusappealed to all that used to be good in the man she married, to make himstay away from the saloon, or to give her a little of his money to buy foodfor the children. 

More than once in such instances Michael had been able successfully to addhis influence to the wife's and get the man to go quietly home. 

He put the key hastily in his pocket and hurried toward the two. 

"You shan't! You shan't! You shan't never go back to her!" he heard thewoman cry fiercely. "You promised me--"

"Shut up, will you? I don't care what I promised--" said the man in aguarded voice that Michael felt sure he had heard before. 

"I shan't shut up! I'll holler ef you go, so the police'll come. You've gota right to stay with me. You shan't do me no wrong ner you shan't go backto that stuck-up piece. You're mine, I say, and you promised--!"

With a curse the man struck her a cruel blow across the mouth, and tried totear her clinging hands away from his coat, but they only clung the morefiercely. 

Michael sprang to the woman's side like a panther. 

"Look out!" he said in clear tones. "You can't strike a woman!" His voicewas low and calm, and sounded as it used to sound on the ball field when hewas giving directions to his team at some crisis in the game. 

"Who says I can't?" snarled the man, and now Michael was sure he knew thevoice. Then the wretch struck the woman between her eyes and she fellheavily to the ground. 

Like a flash Michael's great arm went out and felled the man, and in thesame breath, from the shadows behind there sprang out the slender, wiryfigure of Sam and flung itself upon the man on the ground who with angryimprecations was trying to struggle to his feet. His hand had gone to aninner pocket, as he fell and in a moment more there was a flash of lightand Michael felt a bullet whiz by his ear. Nothing but the swerving of thestraggling figures had saved it from going through his brain. It occurredto Michael in that instant that that was what had been intended. Theconviction that the man had also recognized him gave strength to his armas he wrenched the revolver from the hand of the would-be assassin. Nobodyknew better than Michael how easy it would be to plead "self-defense" ifthe fellow got into any trouble. A man in young Carter's position withwealth and friends galore need not fear to wipe an unknown fellow out ofexistence; a fellow whose friends with few exceptions were toughs and jailbirds and ex-criminals of all sorts. 

It was just as he gave Carter's wrist the twist that sent the revolverclattering to the ground beside the unconscious woman that Michael heardthe hurried footsteps of the officer of the law accompanied by a curiousmotley crowd who had heard the pistol shot and come to see what newexcitement life offered for their delectation. He suddenly realized how badmatters would look for Sam if he should be found in the embrace of one ofSociety's pets who would all too surely have a tale to tell that wouldclear himself regardless of others. Michael had no care for himself. Thepolice all about that quarter knew him well, and were acquainted with hiswork. They looked upon him with almost more respect than they gave thepriests and deaconesses who went about their errands of mercy; forMichael's spirit-look of being more than man, and the stories that wereattached to his name in the alley filled them with a worshipful awe. Therewas little likelihood of trouble for Michael with any of the officers heknew. But Sam was another proposition. His life had not all been strictlyvirtuous in the past, and of late he had been away in New Jersey so muchthat he was little known, and would be at once suspected of having been thecause of the trouble. Besides, the woman lay unconscious at their feet!

With a mighty effort Michael now reached forth and plucked Sam, strugglingfiercely, from the arms of his antagonist and put him behind him in thedoorway, standing firmly in front. Carter thus released, sprawled foran instant in the road, then taking advantage of the momentary releasestruggled to his feet and fled in the opposite direction from that in whichthe officers were approaching. 

"Let me go! I must get him!" muttered Sam pushing fiercely to get byMichael. 

"No, Sam, stay where you are and keep quiet. You'll gain nothing by runningafter him. You'll only get into trouble yourself. "

"I don't care!" said Sam frantically, "I don't care what happens to me. I'll kill him. He stole my girl!"

But Michael stood before him like a wail of adamant in the strength thatwas his for the extremity. 

"Yes, Sam, my poor fellow. I know, " said Michael gently, sadly. "I know, Sam. He stole mine too!"

Sam subsided as if he had been struck, a low awful curse upon his lips, hisface pale and baleful. 

"You, too?" The yearning tenderness went to Michael's heart like sweetsalve, even in the stress of the moment. They were brothers in sorrow, andtheir brotherhood saved Sam from committing a crime. 

Then the police and crowd swept up breathless. 

"What does all this mean?" panted a policeman touching his cap respectfullyto Michael. "Some one been shooting?"

He stooped and peered into the white face of the still unconscious woman, and then looked suspiciously toward Sam who was standing sullenly behindMichael. 

"He's all right, " smiled Michael throwing an arm across Sam's shoulder, "Heonly came in to help me when he saw I was having a hard time of it. Thefellow made off in that direction. " Michael pointed after Carter whose formhad disappeared in the darkness. 

"Any of the gang?" asked the officer as he hurried away. 

"No!" said Michael. "He doesn't belong here!"

One officer hurried away accompanied by a crowd, the other stayed to lookafter the woman. He touched the woman with his foot as he might have tappeda dying dog to see if there was still life there. A low growl like a fierceanimal came from Sam's closed lips. 

Michael put a warning hand upon, his arm. 

"Steady, Sam, steady!" he murmured, and went himself and lifted the poorpretty head of the girl from its stony pillow. 

"I think you'd better send for the ambulance, " he said to the officer. "She's had a heavy blow on her head. I arrived just in time to see thebeginning of the trouble--"

"Ain't she dead?" said the officer indifferently. "Best get her into herhouse. Don't reckon they want to mess up the hospital with such cattle asthis. "

Michael caught the fierce gleam in Sam's eyes. A second more would haveseen the officer lying beside the girl in the road and a double tragedy tothe record of that night; for Sam was crouched and moving stealthily like acat toward the officer's back, a look of almost insane fury upon his smallthin face. It was Michael's steady voice that recalled him to sanity oncemore, just as many a time in the midst of a game he had put self-controland courage into the hearts of his team. 

"Sam, could you come here and hold her head a minute, while I try to getsome water? Yes, officer, I think she is living, and she should be got tothe hospital as soon as possible. Please give the call at once. "

The officer sauntered off to do his bidding. Michael and Sam began workingover the unconscious girl, and the crowd stood idly round waiting until theambulance rattled up. They watched with awe as the form of the woman waslifted in and Michael and Sam climbed up on the front seat with the driverand rode away; then they drifted away to their several beds and the streetsettled into its brief night respite. 

The two young men waited at the hospital for an hour until a white-cappednurse came to tell them that Lizzie had recovered consciousness, and therewas hope of her life. Then they went out into the late night together. 

"Sam, you're coming home with me to-night!" Michael put his armaffectionately around Sam's shoulders, "You never would come before, butyou must come to-night. "

And Sam, looking into the other's face for an instant, saw that inMichael's suffering eyes that made him yield. 

"I ain't fit!" Sam murmured as they walked along silently together. It wasthe first hint that Sam had ever given that he was not every whit as goodas Michael; and Michael with rare tact had never by a glance let Sam knowhow much he wished to have him cleaner, and more suitably garbed. 

"Oh, we'll make that all right!" said Michael fervently thankful thatat last the time had come for the presentation of the neat and fittinggarments which he had purchased some weeks before for a present for Sam, and which had been waiting for a suitable opportunity of presentation. 

The dawn was hovering in the East when Michael led Sam up to his own room, and throwing wide the door of his own little private bath-room told Sam totake a hot bath, it would make him feel better. 

While Sam was thus engaged Michael made a compact bundle of Sam's oldgarments, and stealing softly to the back hall window, landed them by aneat throw on the top of the ash barrel in the court below. Sam's clothesmight see the alley again by way of the ash man, but never on Sam's back. 

Quite late that very same morning, when Sam, clothed and in a new andrighter mind than ever before in his life, walked down with Michael tobreakfast, and was introduced as "my friend Mr. Casey" to the landlady, whowas hovering about the now deserted breakfast table; he looked every inchof him a respectable citizen. Not handsome and distinguished like Michael, of course, but quite unnoticeable, and altogether proper as a guest at therespectable breakfast table of Mrs. Semple. 

Michael explained that they had been detained out late the night before byan accident, and Mrs. Semple gave special orders for a nice breakfast to beserved to Mr. Endicott and his friend, and said it wasn't any trouble atall. 

People always thought it was no trouble to do things for Michael. 

While they ate, Michael arranged with Sam to take a trip out to see Buck. 

"I was expecting to go this morning, " he said. "I had my plans all made. They write me that Buck is getting uneasy and they wish I'd come, butnow"--he looked meaningly at Sam--"I think I ought to stay here for alittle. Could you go in my place? There are things here I must attend to. "

Sam looked, and his face grew dark with sympathy. He understood. 

"I'll keep you informed about Lizzie, " went on Michael with delicateintuition, "and anyway you couldn't see her for sometime, I think if youtry you could help Buck as much as I. He needs to understand that breakinglaws is all wrong. That it doesn't pay in the end, and that there has gotto be a penalty--you know. You can make him see things in a new way if youtry. Are you willing to go, Sam?"

"I'll go, " said Sam briefly, and Michael knew he would do his best. Itmight be that Sam's change of viewpoint would have more effect upon Buckthan anything Michael could say. For it was an open secret between Sam andMichael now that Sam stood for a new order of things and that the old life, so far as he was concerned, he had put away. 

And so Sam was got safely away from the danger spot, and Michael stayed toface his sorrow, and the problem of how to save Starr. 

CHAPTER XXI

The papers the next morning announced that Mr. Stuyvesant Carter whiletaking a short cut through the lower quarter of the city, had been cruellyattacked, beaten and robbed, and had barely escaped with his life. 

He was lying in his rooms under the care of a trained nurse, and wasrecovering as rapidly as could be expected from the shock. 

Michael reading it next morning after seeing Sam off to Kansas, lifted hishead with that quiet show of indignation. He knew that the message musthave been telephoned to the paper by Carter himself shortly after he hadescaped from the police. He saw just how easy it was for him to give outany report he chose. Money and influence would buy even the public press. It would be little use to try to refute anything he chose to tell abouthimself. 

The days that followed were to Michael one long blur of trouble. He hauntedMr. Endicott's office in hopes of getting some news of his return but theytold him the last letters had been very uncertain. He might come quickly, and he might be delayed a month yet, or even longer; and a cablegram mightnot reach him much sooner than a letter, as he was travelling from place toplace. 

After three days of this agony, knowing that the enemy would soon berecovering from his bruises and be about again, he reluctantly wrote a noteto Starr:

"My dear Miss Endicott:

"At the risk of offending you I feel that I must make one more attempt tosave you from what I feel cannot but be great misery. The young man of whomwe were speaking has twice to my knowledge visited a young woman of theslums within the last month, and has even since your engagement beenmaintaining an intimacy with her which can be nothing but an insult to you. Though you may not believe me, it gives me greater pain to tell you thisthan anything I ever had to do before, I have tried in every way I know tocommunicate with your father, but have thus far failed. I am writing youthus plainly and painfully, hoping that though you will not take my wordfor it, you will at least be willing to find some trustworthy intimatefriend of your family in whom you can confide, who will investigate thismatter for you, and give you his candid opinion of the young man. I canfurnish such a man with information as to where to go to get the facts. I know that what I have said is true. I beg for the sake of your futurehappiness that you will take means to discover for yourself. 

"Faithfully yours, "Michael"

To this note, within two days, he received a condescending, patronizingreply:

"Michael:

"I am exceedingly sorry that you have lent yourself to means so low toaccomplish your end, whatever that may be. It is beyond me to imagine whatpossible motive you can have for all this ridiculous calumny that you aretrying to cast on one who has shown a most noble spirit toward you. 

"Mr. Carter has fully explained to me his presence at the home of thatgirl, and because you seem to really believe what you have written me, andbecause I do not like to have _anyone_ think evil of the man whom I amsoon to marry, I am taking the trouble to explain to you. The young womanis a former maid of Mr. Carter's mother, and she is deeply attached to her. She does up Mrs. Carter's fine laces exquisitely, and Mr. Carter has twicebeen the bearer of laces to be laundered, because his mother was afraid totrust such valuable pieces to a servant. I hope you will now understandthat the terrible things you have tried to say against Mr. Carter areutterly false. Such things are called blackmail and bring terribleconsequences in court I am told if they become known, so I must warn younever to do anything of this sort again. It is dangerous. If my fatherwere at home he would explain it to you. Of course, having been in thatout-of-the-way Florida place for so long you don't understand these things, but for papa's sake I would not like you to get into trouble in any way. 

"There is one more thing I must say. Mr. Carter tells me that he sawyou down in that questionable neighborhood, and that you are yourselfinterested in this girl. It seems strange when this is the case, that youshould have thought so ill of him. 

"Trusting that you will cause me no further annoyance in this matter, "S. D. Endicott. "

When Michael had read this he bowed himself upon his desk as one who hadbeen stricken unto death. To read such words from her whom he loved betterthan his own soul was terrible! And he might never let her know that thesethings that had been said of him were false. She would probably go alwayswith the idea that his presence in that alley was a matter of shame to him. So far as his personal part in the danger to herself was concerned, he wasfrom this time forth powerless to help her. If she thought such things ofhim, --if she had really been made to believe them, --then of course shecould credit nothing he told her. Some higher power than his would have tosave her if she was to be saved. 

To do Starr justice she had been very much stirred by Michael's note, andafter a night of wakefulness and meditation had taken the letter to hermother. Not that Starr turned naturally to her most unnatural mother forhelp in personal matters usually; but there seemed to be no one else towhom she could go. If only her father had been home! She thought of cablinghim, but what could she say in a brief message? How could she make himunderstand? And then there was always the world standing by to peercuriously over one's shoulder when one sent a message. She could not hopeto escape the public eye. 

She considered showing Michael's note to Morton, her faithful nurse, butMorton, wise in many things, would not understand this matter, and would bepowerless to help her. So Starr had gone to her mother. 

Mrs. Endicott, shrewd to perfection, masked her indignation under a veryproper show of horror, told Starr that of course it was not true, butequally of course it must be investigated; gave her word that she would doso immediately and her daughter need have no further thought of the matter;sent at once for young Carter with whom she held a brief consultation atthe end of which Starr was called and cheerfully given the version of thestory which she had written to Michael. 

Stuyvesant Carter could be very alluring when he tried, and he chose totry. The stakes were a fortune, a noble name, and a very pretty girl withwhom he was as much in love at present as he ever had been in his checkeredcareer, with any girl. Moreover he had a nature that held revenge long. Hedelighted to turn the story upon the man who pretended to be so righteousand who had dared to give him orders about a poor worthless girl ofthe slums. He set his cunning intellect to devise a scheme whereby hisadversary should be caught in his own net and brought low. He found apowerful ally in the mother of the girl he was to marry. 

For reasons of ambition Mrs. Endicott desired supremely an alliance withthe house of Carter, and she was most determined that nothing should upsether plans for her only daughter's marriage. 

She knew that if her husband should return and hear any hint of the storyabout Carter he would at once put an end to any relations between him andStarr. He had always been "queer" about such things, and "particular, " asshe phrased it. It would be mortifying beyond anything to have any balk inthe arrangements after things had gone thus far; and there was that hatefulMrs. Waterman, setting her cap for him so odiously everywhere even sincethe engagement had been announced. Mrs. Endicott intended to risk nothing. Therefore she planned with the young people for an early marriage. She wasanxious to have everything so thoroughly cut and dried, and matters goneso far that her husband could not possibly upset them when he returned. Finally she cabled him, asking him to set a positive date for hishome-coming as the young people wished to arrange for an early wedding. He cabled back a date not so very far off, for in truth, though he hadreceived none of Michael's warnings he was uneasy about this matter of hisdaughter's engagement. Young Carter had of course seemed all right, and hesaw no reason to demur when his wife wrote that the two young people hadcome to an understanding, but somehow it had not occurred to him that themarriage would be soon. He was troubled at thought of losing the one brighttreasure of his home, when he had but just got her back again from herEuropean education. He felt that it was unfortunate that imperativebusiness had called him abroad almost as soon as she returned. He was inhaste to be back. 

But when his wife followed her cable message with, a letter speaking of animmediate marriage and setting a date but four days after the time set forhis arrival, he cabled to her to set no date until his return, which wouldbe as soon as he could possibly come. 

However, Mrs. Endicott had planned well. The invitations had been sent outthat morning. She thought it unnecessary to cable again but wrote, "I'msorry, but your message came too late. The invitations are all out now, andarrangements going forward. I knew you would not want to stop Starr'splans and she seems to have her heart set on being married at once. DearStuyvesant finds it imperative to take an ocean trip and he cannot bear thethought of going without his wife. I really do not see how things couldpossibly be held off now. We should be the laughing stock of society andI am sure you would not want me to endure that. And Starr, dear child, isquite childishly happy over her arrangements. She is only anxious tohave you properly home in time, so do hurry and get an earlier boat ifpossible. "

Over this letter Mr. Endicott frowned and looked troubled. His wife hadever taken things in her own hands where she would; but concerning Starrthey had never quite agreed, though he had let her have her own way abouteverything else. It was like her to get this marriage all fixed up whilehe was away. Of course it must be all right, but it was so sudden! And hislittle Starr! His one little girl!

Then, with his usual abrupt action he put the letter in his inner pocketand proceeded to hurry his business as much as possible that he might takean earlier boat than the one he had set. And he finally succeeded by dintof working night as well as day, and leaving several important matters togo as they would. 

The papers at last announced that Mr. Delevan Endicott who had been abroadfor three months on business had sailed for home and would reach New Yorknearly a week before the date set for the wedding. The papers also werefilled with elaborate foreshadowings of what that event was likely to meanto the world of society. 

And Michael, knowing that he must drink every drop of his bitter cup, knowing that he must suffer and endure to the end of it, if perchance hemight yet save her in some miraculous way, read every word, and knew theday and the hour of the boat's probable arrival. He had it all planned tomeet that boat himself. If possible he would go out on the pilot and meethis man before he landed. 

Then the silence of the great deep fell about the traveller; and the dayswent by with the waiting one in the city; the preparations hurried forwardby trained and skilful workers. The Endicott home was filled with comersand goers. Silks and satins and costly fabrics, laces and jewels andrare trimmings from all over the world were brought together by handsexperienced in costuming the great of the earth. 

Over the busy machinery which she had set going, Mrs. Endicott presidedwith the calmness and positive determination of one who had a great purposein view and meant to carry it out. Not a detail escaped, her vigilant eye, not an item was forgotten of all the millions of little necessities thatthe world expected and she must have forthcoming. Nothing that could makethe wedding unique, artistic, perfect, was too hard or too costly to becarried out. This was her pinnacle of opportunity to shine, and Mrs. Endicott intended to make the most of it. Not that she had not shonethroughout her worldly career, but she knew that with the marriage of herdaughter her life would reach its zenith point and must henceforth beginto decline. This event must be one to be remembered in the annals ofthe future so long as New York should continue to marry and be given inmarriage. Starr's wedding must surpass all others in wonder and beauty andelegance. 

So she planned, wrought, carried out; and day by day the gleam in her eyestold that she was nearing her triumph. 

It did not disturb her when the steamer was overdue one whole day, and thentwo. Starr, even amid the round of gaieties in her young set, all given inher honor, found time to worry about her father; but the wife only foundin this fact a cause for congratulation. She felt instinctively that hercrucial time was coming when her husband reached home. If Michael had daredto carry out his threats, or if a breath of the stories concerning youngCarter's life should reach him there would be trouble against which she hadno power. 

It was not until the third morning with still no news of the vessel thatMrs. Endicott began to feel uneasy. It would be most awkward to have toput off the ceremony, and of course it would not do to have it without thebride's father when he was hurrying to be present. If he would arrive justin time so much the better; but late--ah--that would be dreadful! Shetightened her determined lips, and looked like a Napoleon saying toherself, "There shall be no Alps!" In like manner she would have said ifshe could: "There shall be no sea if I wish it. "

But the anxiety she felt was only manifested by her closer vigilance overher helpers as swiftly and hourly the perfected preparations glided totheir finish. 

Starr grew nervous and restless and could not sleep, but hovered from roomto room in the daytime looking out of the windows, or fitfully telephoningthe steamship company for news. Her fiancé found her most unsatisfactoryand none of the plans he proposed for her diversion pleased her. Dark ringsappeared under her eyes, and she looked at him with a troubled expressionsometimes when she should have been laughing in the midst of a round ofpleasures. 

Starr deeply loved her father, and some vague presentiment of comingtrouble seemed to shadow all the brightness of life. Now and then Michael'sface with its great, true eyes, and pleading expression came betweenher and Carter's face, and seemed to blur its handsome lines; and thenindefinite questions haunted her. What if those terrible things Michael hadsaid were true? Was she sure, _sure_? And at times like that she fanciedshe saw a weakness in the lines about Carter's eyes and mouth. 

But she was most unused to studying character, poor child, and had no guideto help her in her lonely problem of choosing; for already she had learnedthat her mother's ways and hers were not the same; and--her father--did notcome. When he came it would be all right. It had to be, for there was noturning back, of course, now. The wedding was but two days off. 

Michael, in his new office, frankly acknowledged to himself these days thathe could not work. He had done all that he could and now was waiting fora report of that vessel. When it landed he hoped to be the first man onboard; in fact, he had made arrangement to go out to meet it before itlanded. But it did not come! Was it going to be prevented until the day wasput off? Would that make matters any better? Would he then have more time?And could he accomplish anything with Mr. Endicott, even, supposing he hadtime? Was he not worse than foolish to try? Mr. Endicott was already angrywith him for another reason. His wife and Starr, and that scoundrel of aCarter, would tell all sorts of stories. Of course he would believe them inpreference to his! He groaned aloud sometimes, when, he was alone in theoffice: and wished that there were but a way he could fling himself betweenStarr and all evil once for all; give his life for hers. Gladly, gladlywould he do it if it would do any good. Yet there was no way. 

And then there came news. The vessel had been heard from still many milesout to sea, with one of her propellers broken, and laboring along at greatdisadvantage. But if all went well she would reach her dock at noon of thefollowing day--eight hours before the time set for the wedding!

Starr heard and her face blossomed, into smiles. All would go well afterall. She telephoned again to the steamship company a little while later andher utmost fears were allayed by their assurances. 

Mrs. Endicott heard the news with intense relief. Her husband wouldscarcely have time to find out anything. She must take pains that he had noopportunity to see Michael before the ceremony. 

The young man heard and his heart beat wildly. Would the time be longenough to save her?

Noon of the next day came, but the steamer had not yet landed, though thenews from her was good. She would be in before night, there was no doubt ofit now. Mr. Endicott would be in time for the wedding, but just that and nomore. He had sent reassurances to his family, and they were going forwardhappily in the whirl of the last things. 

But Michael in his lonely office hung up the telephone receiver with aheavy heart. There would be no time now to save Starr. Everything wasagainst him. Even if he could get speech of Mr. Endicott which was doubtfulnow, was it likely the man would listen at this the last minute? Of coursehis wife and daughter and her fiancé could easily persuade him all waswell, and Michael a jealous fool!

As he sat thus with bowed head before his desk, he heard footsteps alongthe stone floor of the corridor outside. They halted at his door, andhesitating fingers fumbled with the knob. He looked up frowning and wasabout to send any chance client away, with the explanation that he wasentirely too much occupied at present to be interrupted, when the face ofthe woman who opened the door caught his attention. 

CHAPTER XXII

It was Lizzie, with her baby in her arms; the girl he had defended in thealley, and whose face he had last seen lying white and unconscious in themoonlight, looking ghastly enough with the dark hair flung back against theharsh pillow of stone. 

The face was white now, but softened with the beauty of motherhood. Thebold, handsome features had somehow taken on a touch of gentleness, thoughthere glowed and burned in her dark eyes a fever of passion and unrest. 

She stood still for a moment looking at Michael after she had closed thedoor, and was holding the baby close as if fearing there might be some onethere who was minded to take it from her. 

As Michael watched her, fascinated, cut to the heart by the dumb sufferingin her eyes, he was reminded of one of the exquisite Madonnas he hadseen in an exhibition not long ago. The draperies had been dainty andcloud-like, and the face refined and wonderful in its beauty, but there hadbeen the same sorrowful mother-anguish in the eyes. It passed through hismind that this girl and he were kin because of a mutual torture. His facesoftened, and he felt a great pity for her swelling in his heart. 

His eyes wandered to the little upturned face of the baby wrapped closein the shabby shawl against its mother's breast. It was a very beautifullittle sleeping face, with a look still of the spirit world from whichit had but recently come. There was something almost unearthly in itsloveliness, appealing even in its sleep, with its innocent baby curves andoutlines. A little stranger soul, whose untried feet had wandered intounwelcome quarters where sorrows and temptations were so thickly strewnthat it could not hope to escape them. 

What had the baby come for? To make one more of the swarming mass of sinfulwretches who crowded the alley? Would those cherub lips half-parted now ina seraphic smile live to pour forth blasphemous curses as he had heard evenvery small children in the alley? Would that tiny sea-shell hand, restingso trustingly against the coarse cloth of its mother's raiment, lookinglike a rosebud gone astray, live to break open safes and take theircontents? Would the lovely little soft round body whose tender curvesshowed pitifully beneath the thin old shawl, grow up to lie in the guttersome day? The problem of the people had never come to Michael so forcibly, so terribly as in that moment before Lizzie spoke. 

"Be you a real lawyer?" she asked. "Kin you tell what the law is 'boutfolks and thin's?"

Michael smiled and rose to give her a chair as courteously as though shehad been a lady born. 

"Sit down, " he said. "Yes, I am a lawyer. What can I do for you?"

"I s'pose you charge a lot, " said the girl with a meaning glance around theroom. "You've got thin's fixed fine as silk here. But I'll pay anythin' youast ef it takes me a lifetime to do it, ef you'll jest tell me how I kingit my rights. "

"Your rights?" questioned Michael sadly. Poor child! _Had_ she any rightsin the universe that he could help her to get? The only rights he knew forsuch as she were room in a quiet graveyard and a chance to be forgotten. 

"Say, ain't it against the law fer a man to marry a woman when he's alreadygot one wife?"

"It is, " said Michael, "unless he gets a divorce. "

"Well, I ain't goin' to give him no divorce, you bet!" said the girlfiercely. "I worked hard enough to get a real marriage an' I ain't goin' togive up to no fash'nable swell. I'm's good's she is, an' I've got my rightsan I'll hev 'em. An' besides, there's baby--!" Her face softened and tookon a love light; and immediately Michael was reminded of the madonnapicture again. "I've got to think o' him!" Michael marvelled to see thatthe girl was revelling in her possession, of the little helpless burden whohad been the cause of her sorrow. 

"Tell me about it. " His voice was very gentle. He recalled suddenly thatthis was Sam's girl. Poor Sam, too! The world was a terribly tangled messof trouble. 

"Well, there ain't much to tell that counts, only he kep' comp'ny with me, an' I wouldn't hev ennythin' else but a real marriage, an' so he giv in, an' we hed a couple o' rooms in a real respectable house an' hed it finetill he had to go away on business, he said. I never 'b'leeved that. Why hewas downright rich. He's a real swell, you know. What kind o' business cudhe have?" Lizzie straightened herself proudly and held her head high. 

"About whom are you talking?" asked Michael. 

"Why, my husband, 'course, Mr. Sty-ve-zant Carter. You ken see his name inthe paper real often. He didn't want me to know his real name. He hed mecall him Dan Hunt fer two months, but I caught on, an' he was real mad fera while. He said his ma didn't like the match, an' he didn't want folks toknow he'd got married, it might hurt him with some of his swell friends--"

"You don't mean to tell me that Mr. Stuyvesant Carter ever really marriedyou!" said Michael incredulously. 

"Sure!" said Lizzie proudly, "married me jest like enny swell; got me adimon ring an' a silk lined suit an' a willer plume an everythin'. " Lizzieheld up a grimy hand on which Michael saw a showy glitter of jewelry. 

"Have you anything to show for it?" asked Michael, expecting her of courseto say no. "Have you any certificate or paper to prove that you weremarried according to law?"

"Sure!" said Lizzie triumphantly, drawing forth a crumpled roll from thefolds of her dress and smoothing it out before his astonished eyes. 

There it was, a printed wedding certificate, done in blue and gold with acolored picture of two clasped hands under a white dove with a gold ringin its beak. Beneath was an idealized boat with silken sails bearing twopeople down a rose-lined river of life; and the whole was bordered withorange blossoms. It was one of those old-fashioned affairs that countryministers used to give their parishioners in the years gone by, and arestill to be had in some dusty corners of a forgotten drawer in country bookstores. But Michael recognized at once that it was a real certificate. Heread it carefully. The blanks were all filled in, the date she gave of themarriage was there, and the name of the bridegroom though evidently writtenin a disguised hand could be deciphered: "Sty. Carter. " Michael did notrecognize the names of either the witnesses or the officiating minister. 

"How do you happen to have Mr. Carter's real name here when you say hemarried you under an assumed name?" he asked moving his finger thoughtfullyover the blurred name that had evidently been scratched out and writtenover again. 

"I made him put it in after I found out who he was, " said Lizzie. "Hecouldn't come it over me thet-a-way. He was awful gone on me then, an' Icud do most ennythin' with him. It was 'fore she cum home from Europe! Shejes' went fer him an' turned his head. Ef I'd a-knowed in time I'd gone an'tole her, but land sakes! I don't 'spose 'twould a done much good. I woulda-ben to her before, only I was fool 'nough to promise him I wouldn't saynothin' to her ef he'd keep away from her. You see I needed money awful badfer baby. He don't take to livin' awful good. He cries a lot an' I bed tohev thin's fer 'im, so I threatened him ef he didn't do sompin' I'd go tellher; an' he up an' forked over, but not till I promised. But now they saythe papers is tellin' he's to marry her to-night, an' I gotta stop itsomehow. I got my rights an' baby's to look after, promise er no promise, Ken I get him arrested?"

"I am not sure what you can do until I look into the matter, " Michael saidgravely. Would the paper he held help or would it not, in his mission toStarr's father? And would it be too late? His heavy heart could not answer. 

"Do you know these witnesses?"

"Sure. " said Lizzie confidently. "They're all swells. They come down withhim when he come to be married. I never seen 'em again, but they was realjolly an' nice. They give me a bokay of real roses an' a bracelet made likea snake with green glass eyes. "

"And the minister? Which is his church?"

"I'm sure I donno, " said Lizzie. "I never ast. He Come along an' was ezjolly ez enny of 'em. He drank more'n all of 'em put together. He was awfulgame fer a preacher. "

Michael's heart began to sink. Was this a genuine marriage after all? Couldanything be proved? He questioned the girl carefully, and after a fewminutes sent her on her way promising to do all in his power to help herand arranging to let her know as soon as possible if there was anything shecould do. 

That was a busy afternoon for Michael. The arrival of the steamer wasforgotten. His telephone rang vainly on his desk to a silent room. He wasout tramping over the city in search of the witnesses and the minister whohad signed Lizzie's marriage certificate. 

Meantime the afternoon papers came out with a glowing account of thewedding that was to be, headed by the pictures of Starr and Mr. Carter, forthe wedding was a great event in society circles. 

Lizzie on her hopeful way back to the alley, confident that Michael, theangel of the alley, would do something for her, heard the boys crying theafternoon edition of the paper, and was seized with a desire to see if herhusband's picture would be in again. She could ill spare the penny from herscanty store that she spent for it, but then, what was money in a case likethis? Michael would do something for her and she would have more money. Besides, if worst came to worst she would go to the fine lady and threatento make it all public, and she would give her money. 

Lizzie had had more advantages than most of her class in the alley. She hadworked in a seashore restaurant several summers and could read a little. From the newspaper account she gathered enough to rouse her half-soothedfrenzy. Her eyes flashed fire as she went about her dark little tenementroom making baby comfortable. His feeble wail and his sweet eyes lookinginto hers only fanned the fury of her flame. She determined not to waitfor Michael, but to go on her own account at once to that girl that wasstealing away her husband, her baby's father, and tell her what she wasdoing. 

With the cunning of her kind Lizzie dressed herself in her best; a soiledpink silk shirtwaist with elbow sleeves, a spotted and torn black skirtthat showed a tattered orange silk petticoat beneath its ungainly length, a wide white hat with soiled and draggled willow plume of Alice blue, andhigh-heeled pumps run over on their uppers. If she had but known it shelooked ten times better in the old Madonna shawl she had worn toMichael's office, but she took great satisfaction in being able to dressappropriately when she went to the swells. 

The poor baby she wrapped in his soiled little best, and pinned a largeuntidy pink satin bow on the back of his dirty little blanket. Then shestarted on her mission. 

Now Starr had just heard that her father's vessel would be at the dock ina trifle over an hour and her heart was light and happy. Somehow all hermisgivings seemed to flee away, now that he was coming. She flew from oneroom to another like a wild bird, trilling snatches of song, and lookingprettier than ever. 

"Aw, the wee sweet bairnie!" murmured the old Scotch nurse. "If only herman will be gude to her!"

There was some special bit of Starr's attire for the evening that had notarrived. She was in a twitter of expectancy about it, to be sure it pleasedher, and when she heard the bell she rushed to the head of the stairs andwas half-way down to see if it had come, when the servant opened the doorto Lizzie and her baby. 

One second more and the door would have closed hopelessly on poor Lizzie, for no servant in that house would have thought of admitting such acreature to the presence of their lady a few hours before her wedding; butStarr, poised half-way on the landing, called, "What is it, Graves, someone to see me?"

"But she's not the sort of person--Miss Starr!" protested Graves with thedoor only open a crack now. 

"Never mind, Graves, I'll see her for a minute. I can't deny anyone on mywedding day you know, and father almost safely here. Show her into thelittle reception room. " She smiled a ravishing smile on the devoted Graves, so with many qualms of conscience and misgivings as to what the mistresswould say if she found out, Graves ushered Lizzie and her baby to the roomindicated and Starr fluttered down to see her. So it was Starr's own doingsthat Lizzie came into her presence on that eventful afternoon. 

"Oh, what a sweet baby!" exclaimed Starr eagerly, "is he yours?" Lizzie'sfierce eyes softened. 

"Sit down and tell me who you are. Wait, I'll have some tea brought foryou. You look tired. And won't you let me give that sweet baby a littlewhite shawl of mine. I'm to be married to-night and I'd like to give him awedding present, " she laughed gaily, and Morton was sent for the shawl andanother servant for the tea, while Starr amused herself by making the babycrow at her. 

Lizzie sat in wonder. Almost for the moment she forgot her errand watchingthis sweet girl in her lovely attire making much of her baby. But whenthe tea had been brought and the soft white wool shawl wrapped around thesmiling baby Starr said again:

"Now please tell me who you are and what you have come for. I can't giveyou but a minute or two more. This is a busy day, you know. "

Lizzie's brow darkened. 

"I'm Mrs. Carter!" she said drawing herself up with conscious pride. 

"Carter?" said Starr politely. 

"Yes, I'm the wife of the man you're goin' to marry to-night, an' this ishis child, I thought I'd come an' tell you 'fore 'twas too late. I thoughtef you had enny goodness in you you'd put a stop to this an' give me myrights, an' you seem to hev some heart. Can't you call it off? You wouldn'twant to take my husband away from me, would you? You can get plenty othersan' I'm jest a plain workin' girl, an' he's mine anyhow, an' this is hiskid. "

Starr had started to her feet, her eyes wide, her hand fluttering to herheart. 

"Stop!" she cried. "You must be crazy to say such things. My poor girl, youhave made a great mistake. Your husband is some other Mr. Carter I suppose. My Mr. Carter is not that kind of a man. He has never been married--"

"Yes, he has!" interposed Lizzie fiercely, "He's married all right, an' Igot the c'tif'ct all right too, only I couldn't bring it this time cause Ilef' it with my lawyer; but you can see it ef you want to, with his nameall straight, "Sty-Vee-Zant Carter, " all writ out. I see to it that he writit himself. I kin read meself, pretty good, so I knowed. "

"I am very sorry for you, " said Starr sweetly, though her heart was heatingviolently in spite of her efforts to be calm and to tell herself that shemust get rid of this wretched impostor without making a scene for theservants to witness: "I am very sorry, but you have made some greatmistake. There isn't anything I can do for you now, but later when I comeback to New York if you care to look me up I will try to do something forbaby. "

Lizzie stood erect in the middle of the little room, her face slowlychanging to a stony stare, her eyes fairly blazing with anger. 

"De'yer mean ter tell me yer a goin' t'go on an' marry my husban' jes'ez ef nothin' had happened? Ain't yer goin' ter ast him ef it's true nernothin'? Ain't yer goin' t' find out what's true 'bout him? 'R d'ye want'im so bad ye don't care who yer hurt, or wot he is, so long's he makes abig splurge before folks? Ain't you a-goin' ter ast him 'bout it?"

"Oh, why certainly, of course, " said Starr as if she were pacifying afrantic child, "I can ask him. I will ask him of course, but I _know_ thatyou are mistaken. Now really, I shall have to say good afternoon. I haven'tanother minute to spare. You must go!"

"I shan't stir a step till you promise me thet you'll ast him rightstraight away. Ain't you all got no telyphone? Well, you kin call him upan' ast him. Jest ast him why he didn't never speak to you of his wifeLizzie, and where he was the evenin' of Augus' four. That's the date on thec'tif'ct! Tell him you seen me an' then see wot he says. Tell him my lawyeris a goin' to fix him ef he goes on. It'll be in all the papers to-morrermornin' ef he goes on. An' you c'n say I shan't never consent to no_di_-vorce, they ain't respectable, an' I got to think o' that on baby'saccount. "

"If you will go quietly away now and say nothing more about this to anyoneI will tell Mr. Carter all about you, " said Starr, her voice trembling withthe effort at self-control. 

"D'ye promus you will?"

"Certainly, " said Starr with dignity. 

"Will ye do it right off straight?"

"Yes, if you will go at once. "

"Cross yer heart?"

"What?"

"Cross yer heart ye will? Thet's a sort o' oath t' make yer keep yerpromus, " explained Lizzie. 

"A lady needs no such thing to make her keep her promise. Don't you knowthat ladies always keep their promises?"

"I wasn't so sure!" said Lizzie, "You can't most allus tell, 't's bes' tobe on the safe side. Will yer promus me yer won't marry him ef ye find outhe's my husband?"

"Most certainly I will not marry him if he is already married. Now go, please, at once. I haven't a minute to spare. If you don't go at once Icannot have time to call him up. "

"You sure I kin trust you?"

Starr turned on the girl such a gaze of mingled dignity and indignationthat her eye quailed before it. 

"Well, I s'pose I gotta, " she said, dropping her eyes before Starr'srighteous wrath. "But 'no weddin' bells' fer you to-night ef yeh keep yerpromus. So long!"

Starr shuddered as the girl passed her. The whiff of unwashed garments, stale cooking, and undefinable tenement odor that reached her nostrilssickened her. Was it possible that she must let this creature have a holdeven momentarily upon her last few hours? Yet she knew she must. She knewshe would not rest until she had been reassured by Carter's voice and theexplanation that he would surely give her. She rushed upstairs to her ownprivate 'phone, locking the door on even her old nurse, and called up the'phone in Carter's private apartments. 

Without owning it to herself she had been a little troubled all theafternoon because she had not heard from Carter. Her flowers hadcome, --magnificent in their costliness and arrangement, and everything hewas to attend to was done, she knew, but no word had come from himself. Itwas unlike him. 

She knew that he had given a dinner the evening before to his old friendswho were to be his ushers, and that the festivities would have lasted late. He had not probably arisen very early, of course, but it was drawing ontoward the hour of the wedding now. She intended to begin to dress at onceafter she had 'phoned him. It was strange she had not heard from him. 

After much delay an unknown voice answered the 'phone, and told her Mr. Carter could not come now. She asked who it was but got no response, exceptthat Mr. Carter couldn't come now. The voice had a muffled, thick sound. "Tell him to call me then as soon as possible, " she said, and the voiceanswered, "Awright!"

Reluctantly she hung up the receiver and called Morton to help her dress. She would have liked to get the matter out of the way before she went aboutthe pretty ceremony, and submitted herself to her nurse's hands with an illgrace and troubled thoughts. The coarse beauty of Lizzie's face hauntedher. It reminded her of an actress that Carter had once openly admired, andshe had secretly disliked. She found herself shuddering inwardly every timeshe recalled Lizzie's harsh voice, and uncouth sentences. 

She paid little heed to the dressing process after all and let Morton haveher way in everything, starting nervously when the 'phone bell rang, oranyone tapped at her door. 

A message came from her father finally. He hoped to be with her in lessthan an hour now, and as yet no word had come from Carter! Why did he notknow she would be anxious? What could have kept him from his usual greetingof her, and on their wedding day!

Suddenly, in the midst of Morton's careful draping of the wedding veilwhich she was trying in various ways to see just how it should be put on atthe last minute, Starr started up from her chair. 

"I cannot stand this, Mortie. That will do for now. I must telephone Mr. Carter. I can't understand why he doesn't call me. "

"Oh, but the poor man is that busy!" murmured Morton excusingly as shehurried obediently out of the room. "Now, mind you don't muss thatbeautiful veil. "

But after a half hour of futile attempt to get into communication withCarter, Starr suddenly appeared in her door calling for her faithful nurseagain. 

"Mortie!" she called excitedly. "Come here quick! I've ordered theelectric. It's at the door now. Put on your big cloak and come with me!I've got to see Mr. Carter at once and I can't get him on the 'phone. "

"But Miss Starr!" protested Morton. "You've no time to go anywhere now, andlook at your pretty veil!"

"Never mind the veil, Mortie, I'm going. Hurry. I can't stop to explain. I'll tell you on the way. We'll be back before anyone has missed us. "

"But your mamma, Miss Starr! She will be very angry with me!"

"Mamma must not know. And anyway I must go. Come, if you won't come with meI'm going alone. "

Starr with these words grasped a great cloak of dark green velvet, soft andpliable as a skin of fur, threw it over her white bridal robes, and hurrieddown the stairs. 

"Oh, Miss Starr, darlin', " moaned Morton looking hurriedly around for acloak with which to follow. "You'll spoil yer veil sure! Wait till I takeit off'n ye. "

But Starr had opened the front door and was already getting into the greatluxurious car that stood outside. 

CHAPTER XXIII

Michael, as he went about on his search kept crying over and over againin his heart: "Oh, God! Do something to save her! Do something to save mylittle Starr!"

Over and over the prayer prayed itself without seeming thought or volitionon his part, as he went from place to place, faithfully, keenly, step bystep, searching out what he needed to know. At last toward six o'clock, hischain of evidence led him to the door of Stuyvesant Carter's apartments. 

After some delay the door was opened reluctantly a little way by aservant with an immobile mask of a face who stared at him stupidly, butfinally admitted that the three men whose names he mentioned were inside. He also said that Mr. Carter was in, but could not be seen. 

He closed the door on the visitor and went inside again to see if any ofthe others would come out. There ensued an altercation in loud and somewhatunsteady tones, and at last the door opened again and a fast looking youngman who admitted himself to be Theodore Brooks slid out and closed itcarefully behind him. The air that came with him was thick with tobaccosmoke and heavy with liquor, and the one glimpse Michael got of the roomshowed a strange radiance of some peculiar light that glowed into the duskyhall weirdly. 

The heavy-eyed youth who stood braced against the wall uncertainly lookedinto Michael's face with an impudent laugh. 

"Well, parson, what's the grouch? Are you the devil or an angel sent tobring retribution?" He ended with a silly laugh that told the experiencedear of the young lawyer that the young man had been drinking heavily. Andthis was the man whose name was signed as Rev. Theodore Brooks, D. D. , onthe tawdry little marriage certificate that Michael held in his hand. Hisheart sank at the futility of the task before him. 

"Are you a minister?" asked Michael briefly. 

"Am I a minister?" drawled young Brooks. "M-my-m-m-mnster! Well now thatget's my goat! Say, boys, he wants t' kno' 'f I'm a m-min'ster! Min-ster ofwhat? Min-ster plen-p'ten'sherry?"

"Did you ever perform a marriage?" asked Michael sharply to stop the loudguffaw that was re-echoing through the polished corridors of the apartment. 

"P'form a m'riage, d'ye say? No, but I'm goin' perform 't a marriageto-night 'f the dead wakes up in time. Goin' t' be bes' man. Say, boys! Got'im 'wake yet? Gettin' late!"

Michael in despair took hold of the other's arm and tried to explain whathe wanted to know. Finally he succeeded in bringing the matter into thefellow's comprehension. 

"Wedding, oh, yes, I 'member, peach of a girl! Stuyvy awfully fond of her. No harm meant. Good joke! Yes, --I borr'wed Grand'F'ther Brooks's old gown'nban's. Awf'lly good disguise! No harm meant--on'y good joke--girl awf'llyset on getting married. Stuyvy wanted t' please 'er--awfully good, joke--!"

"A ghastly joke, I should say, sir!" said Michael sternly and then the doorwas flung open by hands from inside, loud angry voices protesting whileanother hand sought unavailingly to close the door again, but Michael cameand planted himself in the open door and stood like an avenging angel cometo call to judgment. The scene that was revealed to him was too horrifyingfor words. 

A long banquet table stood in the midst of the handsome room whosefurnishings were of the costliest. Amid the scattered remains of the feast, napkins lying under the table, upset glasses still dripping their rubycontents down the damask of the tablecloth, broken china, scattered platesand silver, stood a handsome silver bound coffin, within which, pallid anddeathlike, lay the handsome form of the bridegroom of the evening. Allabout the casket in high sconces burned tall tapers casting their spectrallight over the scene. 

Distributed about the room lounging in chairs, fast asleep on the couches, lying under the table, fighting by the doorway, one standing on a velvetchair raising an unsteady glass of wine and making a flabby attempt at adrinking song, were ten young men, the flower of society, the expectedushers of the evening's wedding. 

Michael with his white face, his golden hair aflame in the flickeringcandle light, his eyes full of shocked indignation, stood for a momentsurveying the scene, and all at once he knew that his prayer was answered. There would be no wedding that night. 

"Is this another of your ghastly jokes?" he turned to Brooks who stood byas master of ceremonies, not in the least disturbed by the presence of thestranger. 

"That's just what it is, " stuttered Brooks, "a j-j-joke, a p-p-p-pract'caljoke. No harm meant, only Stuyvy's hard to wake up. Never did like gettin'up in the mornin'. Wake 'im up boys! Wake 'im up! Time to get dressed forthe wedding!"

"Has anyone sent word to Miss Endicott?"

"Sent word to Mish Endicott? No, I'd 'no's they have. Think she'd care tocome? Say, boys, that's a good joke. This old fellow--don't know who heis--devil'n all his angels p'raps--he s'gests we send word to Mish Endicottt' come' th' fun'ral--"

"I said nothing of the kind, " said Michael fiercely. "Have you no sense ofdecency? Go and wash your face and try to realize what you have been doing. Have some one telephone for a doctor. I will go and tell the family, " andMichael strode out of the room to perform the hardest task that had everyet fallen to his lot. 

He did not wait for the elevator but ran down the flights of stairs tryingto steady his thoughts and realize the horror through which he had justpassed. 

As he started down the last flight he heard the elevator door clang below, and as it shot past him he caught a glimpse of white garments and a facewith eyes that he knew. He stopped short and looked upward. Was it--couldit be? But no, of course not. He was foolish. He turned and compelled hisfeet to hurry down the rest of the stairs, but at the door his worst fearswere confirmed, for there stood the great electric car, and the familiarface of the Endicott chauffeur assured him that some one of the family hadjust gone to the ghastly spectacle upstairs. 

In sudden panic he turned and fled up the stairs. He could not wait forelevators now. He fain would have had wings, the wings of a protectingangel, that he might reach her ere she saw that sight of horror. 

Yet even as he started he knew that he must be too late. 

Starr stopped startled in the open doorway, with Morton, protesting, apprehensive, just behind her. The soft cloak slid away from her down thesatin of her gown, and left her revealed in all her wedding whiteness, hereyes like stars, her beautiful face flushed excitedly. Then the eyes restedon the coffin and its death-like occupant and her face went white as herdress, while a great horror grew in her eyes. 

Brooks, more nearly sober than the rest, saw her first, and hastened to dothe honors. 

"Say, boys, she's come, " he shouted. "Bride's come. Git up, Bobby Trascom. Don't yer know ye mustn't lie down, when there's a lady present--Van--getout from under that table. Help me pick up these things. Place all in amess. Glad to see you, Mish Endicott--" He bowed low and staggered as herecovered himself. 

Starr turned her white face toward him:

"Mr. Brooks, " she said in a tone that sobered him somewhat, "what does itmean? Is he dead?"

"Not at all, not at all, Mish Endicott, " he tried to say gravely. "Have himall right in plenty time. Just a little joke, Mish Endicott. He's merelyshlightly intoxicated--"

But Starr heard no more. With a little stifled cry and a groping motionof her white-clad arms, she crumpled into a white heap at the feet of herhorrified nurse. It was just as she fell that Michael appeared at the door, like the rescuing angel that he was, and with one withering glance at thehuddled group of men he gathered her in his arms and sped down the stairs, faithful Morton puffing after him. Neither of them noticed a man who gotout of the elevator just before Starr fell and walking rapidly toward theopen door saw the whole action. In a moment more Mr. Endicott stood in thedoor surveying the scene before him with stern, wrathful countenance. 

Like a dash of cold water his appearance brought several of theparticipants in the disgraceful scene to their senses. A few questions andhe was possessed of the whole shameful story; the stag dinner growing intoa midnight orgy; the foolish dare, and the reckless acceptance of it by thealready intoxicated bridegroom; the drugged drinks; and the practical jokecarried out by brains long under the influence of liquor. Carter's man whohad protested had been bound and gagged in the back room. The jokers hadfound no trouble in securing the necessary tools to carry out their joke. Money will buy anything, even an undertaker for a living man. The promiseof secrecy and generous fees brought all they needed. Then when the ghastlywork was completed and the unconscious bridegroom lying in state in hiscoffin amid the debris of the table, they drowned the horror of their deedin deeper drinking. 

Mr. Endicott turned from the scene, his soul filled with loathing andhorror. 

He had reached home to find the house in a tumult and Starr gone. Morton, as she went out the door after her young mistress, had whispered to thebutler their destination, and that they would return at once. She had aninnate suspicion that it would be best for some one to know. 

Mr. Endicott at once ordered the runabout and hastened after them, arrivingbut a moment or two later. Michael had just vanished up the Apartmentstairs as he entered the lower hallway. The vague indefinite trouble thathad filled his mind concerning his daughter's marriage to a man he littleknew except by reputation, crystallized into trouble, dear and distinct, ashe hurried after his daughter. Something terrible must have come to Starror she would never have hurried away practically alone at a time like this. 

The electric car was gone by the time Mr. Endicott reached the lower hallagain, and he was forced to go back alone as he came, without furtherexplanation of the affair than what he could see; but he had time in therapid trip to become profoundly thankful that the disgraceful scene hehad just left had occurred before and not after his daughter's marriage. Whatever alleviating circumstances there were to excuse the reckless victimof his comrade's joke, the fact remained that a man who could fall victimto a joke like that was not the companion for his daughter's life; she whohad been shielded and guarded at every possible point, and loved as thevery apple of his eye. His feelings toward the perpetrators of thisgruesome sport were such that he dared not think about them yet. Nopunishment seemed too great for such. And she, his little Starr, had lookedupon that shameful scene; had seen the man she was expecting to marry lyingas one dead--! It was too awful! And what had it done to her? Had it killedher? Had the shock unsettled her mind? The journey to his home seemedlonger than his whole ocean voyage. Oh, why had he not left business to goto the winds and come back long ago to shield his little girl!

Meantime, Michael, his precious burden in his arms, had stepped into thewaiting car, motioning Morton to follow and sit in the opposite seat. Thedelicate Paris frock trailed unnoticed under foot, and the rare lace ofthe veil fell back from the white face, but neither Michael nor the nursethought of satin and lace now, as they bent anxiously above the girl to seeif she still breathed. 

All the way to her home Michael held the lovely little bride in his arms, feeling her weight no more than a feather; fervently thankful that he mightbear her thus for the moment, away from the danger that had threatened herlife. He wished with all his heart he might carry her so to the ends of theearth and never stop until he had her safe from all harm that earth couldbring. His heart thrilled wildly with the touch of her frail sweetness, even while his anxious face bent over her to watch for signs of returningconsciousness. 

But she did not become conscious before she reached the house. His strongarms held her as gently as though she had been a baby as he steppedcarefully out and carried her to her own room; laying her upon the whitebed, where but two hours before the delicate wedding garments had beenspread ready for her to put on. Then he stood back, reverently looked uponher dear face, and turned away. It was in the hall that he met her mother, and her face was fairly disfigured with her sudden recognition of him. 

"What! Is it you that have dared come into this house? The impertinence!I shall report all your doings to my husband. He will be very angry. Ibelieve that you are at the bottom of this whole business! You shallcertainly be dealt with as you deserve!"

She hissed the words after him as Michael descended the stairs with bowedhead and closed lips. It mattered not now what she said or thought of him. Starr was saved!

He was about to pass out into the world again, away from her, away evenfrom knowledge of how she came out of her swoon. He had no further rightthere now. His duty was done. He had been allowed to save her in herextremity!

But just as he reached it the door opened and Mr. Endicott hurried in. 

He paused for an instant. 

"Son!" said he, "it was you who brought her home!" It was as if thatconviction had but just been revealed to his perturbed mind. "Son, I'mobliged. Sit here till I come. I want to speak with you. "

The doctor came with a nurse, and Michael sat and listened to the distantvoices in her room. He gathered from the sounds by and by that Starr wasconscious, was better. 

Until then no one had thought of the wedding or of the waiting guests thatwould be gathering. Something must be done. And so it came about that asthe great organ sounded forth the first notes of the wedding march--for bysome blunder the bride's signal had been given to the organist when theEndicott car drew up at the church--that Michael, bare headed, with his hatin his hand, walked gravely up the aisle, unconscious of the battery ofeyes, and astonished whispers of "Who is he? Isn't he magnificent? Whatdoes it mean? I thought the ushers were to come first?" until he stoodcalmly in the chancel and faced the wondering audience. 

If an angel had come straight down from heaven and interfered with theirwedding they could not have been more astonished. For, as he stood beneaththe many soft lights in front of the wall of living green and blossoms, with his white face and grave sweet dignity, they forgot for once to studythe fashion of his coat, and sat awed before his beautiful face; forMichael wore to-night the look of transport with chin uplifted, glowingeyes, and countenance that showed the spirit shining through. 

The organist looked down, and instinctively hushed his music. Had he madesome mistake? Then Michael spoke. Doubtless he should have gone to theminister who was to perform the ceremony, and given him the message, butMichael little knew the ways of weddings. It was the first one he had everattended, and he went straight to the point. 

"On account of the sudden and serious illness of the groom, " he said, "itwill be impossible for the ceremony to go on at this time. The bride'sfamily ask that you will kindly excuse them from further intrusion orexplanation this evening. "

With a slight inclination of his head to the breathless audience Michaelpassed swiftly down the aisle and out into the night, and the organist, bytremendous self-control, kept on playing softly until the excited peoplewho had drifted usherless into the church got themselves out into theircarriages once more. 

Michael walked out into the night, bareheaded still, his eyes lifted to thestars shining so far away above the city, and said softly, with wondering, reverent voice: "Oh, God! Oh, God!"

CHAPTER XXIV

Following hard upon the interrupted wedding came other events that not onlyhelped to hush matters up, but gave the world a plausible reason why theceremony did not come off as soon as the groom was convalescent from whatwas reported in the papers to be an attack of acute indigestion, easilyaccounted for by the round of banquets and entertainments which usuallyprecede a society wedding. 

During that eventful night while Starr still lay like a crushed lily tornrudely from its stem, her mother, after a stormy scene with her husband, inwhich he made it plain to her just what kind of a man she was wanting herdaughter to marry, and during which she saw the fall of her greatest socialambitions, was suddenly stricken with apoplexy. 

The papers next morning told the news as sympathetically as a paper cantell one's innermost secrets. It praised the wonderful ability of the womanwho had so successfully completed all the unique arrangements for what hadpromised to be the greatest wedding of the season, if not of all seasons;and upon whose overtaxed strength, the last straw had been laid in theillness of the bridegroom. It stated that now of course the wedding wouldbe put off indefinitely, as nothing could be thought of while the bride'smother lay in so critical a state. 

For a week there were daily bulletins of her condition published always inmore and more remote corners of the paper, until the little ripple that hadbeen made in the stream of life passed; and no further mention was made ofthe matter save occasionally when they sent for some famous specialist:when they took her to the shore to try what sea air might do; or when theybrought her home again. 

But all the time the woman lay locked in rigid silence. Only her cold eyesfollowed whoever came into her room. She gave no sign of knowing what theysaid, or of caring who came near her. Her husband's earnest pleas, Starr'stears, drew from her no faintest expression that might have been evenimagined from a fluttering eyelash. There was nothing but that stony stare, that almost unseeing gaze, that yet followed, followed wherever one wouldmove. It was a living death. 

And when one day the release came and the eyes were closed forever from thescenes of this world, it was a sad relief to both husband and daughter. Starr and her father stole away to an old New England farm-house where Mr. Endicott's elderly maiden sister still lived in the old family homestead; amild-eyed, low-voiced woman with plain gray frocks and soft white laces atwrists and neck and ruched about her sweet old face above the silver of herhair. 

Starr had not been there since she was a little child, and her sad heartfound her aunt's home restful. She stayed there through the fall and untilafter the first of the year; while her father came and went as businessdictated; and the Endicott home on Madison Avenue remained closed exceptfor the caretakers. 

Meanwhile young Carter had discreetly escorted his mother to Europe, andwas supposed by the papers to be going to return almost immediately. Not abreath of gossip, strange to say, stole forth. Everything seemed arrangedto quiet any suspicion that might arise. 

Early in the fall he returned to town but Starr was still in New England. No one knew of the estrangement between them. Their immediate friends wereaway from town still, and everything seemed perfectly natural in the orderof decency. Of course people could not be married at once when there hadbeen a death in the family. 

No one but the two families knew of Carter's repeated attempts to bereconciled to Starr; of his feeble endeavor at explanation; of hercontinued refusal even to see him; and the decided letter she wrote himafter he had written her the most abject apology he knew how to frame; norof her father's interview with the young man wherein he was told some factsabout himself more plainly than anyone, even in his babyhood, had everdared to tell him. Mr. Endicott agreed to keep silence for Starr's sake, provided the young man would do nothing to create any gossip about thematter, until the intended wedding had been forgotten, and other eventsshould have taken the minds of society, from their particular case. Carter, for his own sake, had not cared to have the story get abroad and hadsullenly acceded to the command. He had not, however, thought it necessaryto make himself entirely miserable while abroad; and there were those whomore than once spoke his name in company with that of a young and dashingdivorcée. Some even thought he returned to America sooner than he intendedin order to travel on the same steamer that she was to take. However, thosewhispers had not as yet crossed the water; and even if they had, suchthings were too common to cause much comment. 

Then, one Monday morning, the papers were filled with horror over anunusually terrible automobile accident; in which a party of seven, of whomthe young divorcée was one and Stuyvesant Carter was another, went over anembankment sixty feet in height, the car landing upside down on the rocksbelow, and killing every member of the party. The paper also stated thatMr. Theodore Brooks, intimate friend of Carter's, who was to have been bestman at the wedding some months previous, which was postponed on account ofthe sudden illness and death of the bride's mother, was of the party. 

Thus ended the career of Stuyvesant Carter, and thus the world never knewexactly why Starr Endicott did not become Mrs. Carter. 

Michael, from the moment that he went forth from delivering his message inthe church, saw no more of the Endicotts. He longed inexpressibly to calland enquire for Starr; to get some word of reconciliation from her father;to ask if there was not some little thing that he might be trusted to dofor them; but he knew that his place was not there, and his company was notdesired. Neither would he write, for even a note from him could but seem, to Starr, a reminder of the terrible things of which he had been witness, that is if anybody had ever told her it was he that brought her home. 

One solace alone he allowed himself. Night after night as he went homelate he would walk far out of his way to pass the house and look up at herwindow; and always it comforted him a little to see the dim radiance of hersoft night light; behind the draperies of those windows, somewhere, safe, she lay asleep, the dear little white-faced girl that he had been permittedto carry to her home and safety, when she had almost reached the brink ofdestruction. 

About a week after the fateful wedding day Michael received a brief notefrom Starr. 

"My dear Mr. Endicott:

"I wish to thank you for your trouble in bringing me home last week. Icannot understand how you came to be there at that time. Also I am deeplygrateful for your kindness in making the announcement at the church. Verysincerely, S. D. E. "

Michael felt the covert question in that phrase: "I cannot understand howyou came to be there at that time. " She thought, perhaps, that to carry hispoint and stop the marriage he had had a hand in that miserable business!Well, let her think it. It was not his place to explain, and really ofcourse it could make little difference to her what she believed about him. As well to let it rest. He belonged out of her world, and never would hetry to force his way into it. 

And so with the whiteness of his face still lingering from the hard days oftension, Michael went on, straining every nerve in his work; keeping thealley room open nightly even during hot weather, and in constant touch withthe farm which was now fairly on its feet and almost beginning to earn itsown living; though the contributions still kept coming to him quietly, hereand there, and helped in the many new plans that grew out of the many newnecessities. 

The carpenter had built and built, until there were pretty little bungalowsof one and two and three rooms dotted all about the farm to be rented at alow price to the workers. It had come to be a little community by itself, spoken of as "Old Orchard Farms, " and well respected in the neighborhood, for in truth the motley company that Michael and Sam gathered there haddone far better in the way of law-and-orderliness than either had hoped. They seemed to have a pride that nothing that could hurt "the boss's"reputation as a landowner should be laid to their charge. If by chancethere came into their midst any sordid being who could not see matters inthat light the rest promptly taught him better, or else put him out. 

And now the whole front yard was aflame with brilliant flowers in theirseason. The orchard had been pruned and trimmed and grafted, and in thespring presented a foreground of wonderful pink and white splendor; and atall seasons of the year the grassy drive wound its way up to the old house, through a vista of branches, green, or brown. 

It had long been in Michael's heart to build over the old house--for whathe did not know. Certainly he had no hope of ever using it himself exceptas a transitory dwelling; yet it pleased his fancy to have it as he dreamedit out. Perhaps some day it might be needed for some supreme reason, and now was the time to get it ready. So one day he took a great andsimple-hearted architect down to the place to stay over night and get anidea of the surroundings; and a few weeks later he was in possession ofa plan that showed how the old house could be made into a beautiful newhouse, and yet keep all the original outlines. The carpenter, pleased withthe prospect of doing something really fine, had undertaken the work and itwas going forward rapidly. 

The main walls were to be built around with stone, old stone bought fromthe ruins of a desolated barn of forgotten years, stone that was rusty andgolden and green in lovely mellow tones; stone that was gray with age andmossy in place; now and then a stone that was dead black to give strengthto the coloring of the whole. There were to be windows, everywhere, wide, low windows, that would let the sunlight in; and windows that nestled inthe sloping, rambling roofs that were to be stained green like the mossthat would grow on them some day. There was to be a piazza across theentire front with rough stone pillars, and a stone paved floor up to whichthe orchard grass would grow in a gentle terrace. Even now Sam and hishelpers were at work starting rose vines of all varieties, to train aboutthe trellises and twine about the pillars. Sam had elected that it shouldbe called "Rose Cottage. " Who would have ever suspected Sam of having anypoetry in his nature?

The great stone fireplace with its ancient crane and place to sit insidewas to be retained, and built about with more stone, and the partitionsbetween the original sitting-room and dining-room and hall were to be torndown, to make one splendid living-room of which the old fireplace should bethe centre, with a great window at one side looking toward the sea, and adeep seat with book cases in the corner. Heavy beams were somehow to be putin the ceiling to support it, and fine wood used in the wainscoting andpanelling, with rough soft-toned plaster between and above. The floors wereto be smooth, wide boards of hard wood well fitted. 

A little gable was to be added on the morning-side of the house for adining-room, all windows, with a view of the sea on one side and the riveron the other. Upstairs there would be four bedrooms and a bath-room, allaccording to the plan to be white wainscoting half-way up and delicatelyvined or tinted papers above. 

Michael took great pleasure in going down to look at the house, andwatching the progress that was made with it, as indeed the whole colonydid. They called it "The Boss's Cottage, " and when they laid off work atnight always took a trip to see what had been done during the day, men, women and children. It was a sort of sacred pilgrimage, wherein they sawtheir own highest dreams coming true for the man they loved because he hadhelped them to a future of possibilities. Not a man of them but wistfullywondered if he would ever get to the place where he could build him a houselike that, and resolved secretly to try for it; and always the work wentbetter the next day for the visit to the shrine. 

But after all, Michael would turn from his house with an empty ache in hisheart. What was it for? Not for him. It was not likely he would ever spendhappy hours there. He was not like other men. He must take his happiness inmaking others happy. 

But one day a new thought came to him, as he watched the laborers workingout the plan, and bringing it ever nearer and nearer to the perfect whole. A great desire came to him to have Starr see it some day, to know what shewould think about it, and if she would like it. The thought occurred to himthat perhaps, some time, in the changing of the world, she might chancenear that way, and he have opportunity to show her the house that he hadbuilt--for her! Not that he would ever tell her that last. She must neverknow of course that she was the only one in all the world he could evercare for. That would seem a great presumption in her eyes. He must keepthat to himself. But there would be no harm in showing her the house, andhe would make it now as beautiful as if she were to occupy it. He wouldtake his joy in making all things fair, with the hope that she might oneday see and approve it. 

So, as the work drew near its completion he watched it more and morecarefully, matching tints in rooms, and always bringing down some new idea, or finding some particular bit of furniture that would some day fit intoa certain niche. In that way he cheated the lonely ache in his heart, andmade believe he was happy. 

And another winter drew its white mantle about its shoulders and preparedto face the blast. 

It bade fair to be a bitter winter for the poor, for everything was high, and unskilled labor was poorly paid. Sickness and death were abroad, andlurked in the milk supply, the food supply, the unsanitary tenements aboutthe alley; which, because it had not been so bad as some other districtshad been left uncondemned. Yet it was bad enough, and Michael's hands werefull to keep his people alive, and try to keep some of them from sinning. For always where there is misery, there is the more sinning. 

Old Sal sat on her doorstep shivering with her tattered shawl about hershoulders, or when it grew too cold peered from her little muslin curtainedwindow behind the geranium, to see the dirty white hearse with itspink-winged angel atop, pass slowly in and out with some little fragmentof humanity; and knew that one day her turn would come to leave it all andgo--! Then she turned back to her little room which had become the onlyheaven she knew, and solaced herself with the contents of a black bottle!

CHAPTER XXV

During the years of his work in the alley Michael had become known moreand more among workers for the poor, and he found strength in theirbrotherhood, though he kept mainly to his own little corner, and had littletime to go out into other fields. But he had formed some very pleasantdistant friendships among workers, and had met prominent men who wereinterested in reforms of all sorts. 

He was hurrying back to his boarding place one evening late in January withhis mind full of the old problem of how to reach the mass of humanity andhelp them to live in decency so that they might stand some little chance ofbeing good as well as being alive. 

At the crossing of another avenue he met a man whose eloquence as a publicspeaker was only equalled by his indefatigable tirelessness as a workeramong men. 

"Good evening, Endicott, " he said cordially, halting in his rapid walk, "Iwonder if you're not the very man I want? Will you do me a favor? I'm ingreat straits and no time to hunt up anybody. "

"Anything I can do, Doctor, I am at your service, " said Michael. 

"Good! Thank you!" said the great man. "Are you free this evening for anhour?"

"I can be, " said Michael smiling. The other man's hearty greeting and warm"thank you" cheered his lonely heart. 

"Well, then you'll take my place at Madison Square Garden to-night, won'tyou? I've just had a telegram that my mother is very ill, perhaps dying, and I feel that I must go at once. I'm on my way to the station now. Ithought Patton would be at his rooms perhaps and he might help me out, butthey tell me he is out of town on a lecture tour. "

"Take your place?" said Michael aghast. "That I'm sure I could never do, Doctor. What were you going to do?"

"Why, there's a mass meeting at Madison Square Garden. We're trying to getmore playgrounds and roof gardens for poor children, you know. I was tospeak about the tenement district, give people a general idea of whatthe need is, you know. I'm sure you're well acquainted with the subject. They're expecting some big men there who can be big givers if they'retouched in the right way. You're very good to help me out. You'll excuseme if I hurry on, it's almost train time. I want to catch the six o'clockexpress West--"

"But, Doctor, " said Michael in dismay, striding along by his side down thestreet, "I really couldn't do that. I'm not a public speaker, you know--Inever addressed a big audience in my life! Isn't there some one else Icould get for you?"

It was odd that while he was saying it the vision of the church filled withthe fashionable world, waiting for a wedding which did not materialize, came to his thoughts. 

"Oh, that doesn't make the slightest difference in the world!" said theworried man. "You know the subject from _a_ to _z_, and I don't knowanother available soul to-night who does. Just tell them what you know, youneedn't talk long; it'll be all right anyway. Just smile your smile andthey'll give all right. Good night, and thank you from my heart! I musttake this cab, " and he hailed a passing cab and sprang inside, calling outabove the city's din, "Eight o'clock the meeting is. Don't worry! You'llcome out all right. It'll be good practice for your business. "

Michael stood still in the middle of the crowded pavement and looked afterthe departing cab in dismay. If ever in all his life had he come to a spotwhere he felt so utterly inadequate to fill a situation. Frantically hetried as he started down the street again, to think of some one else toask. There seemed to be no one at all who was used to speaking that knewthe subject. The few who knew were either out of town or at a greatdistance. He did not know how to reach them in time. Besides, there wassomething about Michael that just would not let him shirk a situation nomatter how trying it was to him. It was one of the first principles he hadbeen taught with football, and before he reached his boarding place, hischin was up, and his lips firmly set. Anyone who knew him well would havefelt sure Michael was going into a scrimmage and expected the fighting tobe hard. 

It was Will French who dug it out of him after dinner, and laughed andslapped him gleefully on the shoulder. Will was engaged to Hester now andhe was outrageously happy. 

"Good work, old fellow! You've got your chance, now give it to 'em! I don'tknow anybody can do it better. I'd like to bring a millionaire or two tohear you. You've been there, now tell 'em! Don't frown like that, oldfellow, I tell you you've got the chance of your life. Why don't you tell'em about the tenement in the alley?"

Michael's face cleared. 

"I hadn't thought of it, Will. Do you think I could? It isn't exactly onthe subject. I understood him I was to speak of the tenement in relation tothe Playground. "

"The very thing, " said Will. "Didn't he tell you to say what you knew?Well, give it to 'em straight, and you'll see those rich old fellows opentheir eyes. Some of 'em own some of those old rickety shacks, and probablydon't know what they own. Tell 'em. Perhaps the old man who owns ourtenement will be there! Who knows?"

"By the way, " said Michael, his face all alight, "did I tell you thatMilborn told me the other day that they think they're on track of the realowner of our tenement? The agent let out something the last time theytalked with him and they think they may discover who he is, though he'shidden himself well behind agents for years. If we can find out who he iswe may be able to help him understand what great need there is for him tomake a few changes--"

"Yes, a few changes!" sneered Will. "Tear down the whole rotten death-trapand build a new one with light and air and a chance for human beings tolive! Give it to 'em, old man! He may be there to-night. "

"I believe I will, " said Michael thoughtfully, the look of winningbeginning to dawn on his speaking face; and he went up to his room andlocked his door. 

When he came out again, Will who was waiting to accompany him to themeeting saw in his eyes the look of the dreamer, the man who sees into thefuture and prophesies. He knew that Michael would not fail in his speechthat night. He gave a knowing look to Hester as she came out to go withthem and Hester understood. They walked behind him quietly for the mostpart, or speaking in low tones. They felt the pride and the anxiety of themoment as much as if they had been going to make the speech themselves. Theangel in the man had dominated them also. 

Now it happened that Starr had come down with her father for a week'sshopping the last time he ran up to his sister's and on this particularevening she had claimed her father's society. 

"Can't you stay at home, Daddy dear?" she asked wistfully. "I don't want togo to Aunt Frances' 'quiet little evening' one bit. I told her you neededme to-night as we've only a day or two more left before I go back. "

Aunt Frances was Starr's mother's sister, and as the servants of the twofamilies agreed mutually, "Just like her, only more so. " Starr had neverbeen quite happy in her company. 

"Come with me for a little while, daughter. I'm sorry I can't stay at homeall the evening, but I rather promised I'd drop into a charitable meetingat Madison Square for a few minutes this evening. They're counting on myname, I believe. We won't need to stay long, and if you're with, me it willbe easier to get away. "

"Agreed!" said Starr eagerly, and got herself ready in a twinkling. And soit came about that as the roll of martial music poured forth from the fineinstruments secured for the occasion, and the leaders and speakers of theevening, together with the presidents of this Society, and that Army, orSettlement, or Organization for the Belief and Benefit of the Poor, filedon to the great platform, that Starr and her father occupied prominentseats in the vast audience, and joined in the enthusiasm that spread likea wave before the great American Flag that burst out in brilliant electriclights of red and white and blue, a signal that the hour and the moment wascome. 

Michael came in with the others, as calmly as though he had spent his lifepreparing for the public platform. There was fire in his eyes, the fire ofpassion for the people of the slums who were his kin. He looked over theaudience with a throb of joy to think he had so mighty an opportunity. Hispulses were not stirred, because he had no consciousness of self in thiswhole performance. His subject was to live before the people, he himselfwas nothing at all. He had no fear but he could tell them, if that was allthey wanted. Burning sentences hot with the blood of souls had been pouringthrough his mind ever since he had decided to talk of his people. He wasonly in a hurry to begin lest they would not give him time to tell all heknew! All he knew! Could it ever be told? It was endless as eternity. 

With a strange stirring of her heart Starr recognized him. She felt thecolor stealing into her face. She thought her father must notice it, andcast a furtive glance at him, but he was deep in conversation about somebanking business, so she sat and watched Michael during the openingexercises and wondered how he came to be there and what was his officein this thing. Did lawyers get paid for doing something to help alongcharitable institutions? She supposed so. He was probably given a seat onthe platform for his pains. Yet she could not help thinking how fine helooked sitting there in the centre, the place of honor it would seem. How came he there? He was taller than all the others, whether sitting orstanding, and his fine form and bearing made him exceedingly noticeable. Starr could hear women about her whispering to their escorts: "Who is he?"and her heart gave strange little throbs to think that she knew. It seemedodd to her that she should be taken back by the sight of him now throughall the years to that morning in Florida when she had kissed him in thechapel. Somehow there seemed something sweet and tender in the memory andshe dwelt upon it, while she watched him looking calmly over the audience, rising and moving to let another pass him, bowing and smiling to a notedjudge who leaned over to grasp his hand. Did young lawyers like that get toknow noted judges? And wherever did he get his grace? There was rhythm andbeauty in his every motion. Starr had never had such a splendid opportunityto look at him before, for in all that sea of faces she knew hers would belost to him, and she might watch him at her will. 

"Daddy, did you know that Michael was up there?" she asked after a whilewhen her father's friend went back to his seat. 

"Michael? No, where? On the platform? I wonder what in the world he isdoing there? He must be mixed up in this thing somehow, I understand he'sstuck at his mission work. I tried to stop him several years ago. Told himit would ruin his prospects, but he was too stubborn to give up. So he'shere!"

And Mr. Endicott searched out Michael and studied the beautiful facekeenly, looking in vain for any marks of degradation or fast living. Thehead was lifted with its conquering look; the eyes shone forth like jewels. Michael was a man, a son--to be proud of, he told himself, and breathed aheavy sigh. That was one time when his stubbornness had not conquered, andhe found himself glad in spite of himself that it had not. 

The opening exercises were mere preliminary speeches and resolutions, mixedwith music, and interspersed by the introduction of the mayor of thecity and one or two other notables who said a few apathetic words ofcommendation for the work in hand and retired on their laurels. "Iunderstand this Dr. Glidden who is to speak is quite an eloquent fellow, "said Starr's father as the President got up to introduce the speaker of theevening whom all had come to hear. "The man who was just talking with mesays he is really worth hearing. If he grows tiresome we will slip out. Iwonder which one he is? He must be that man with the iron-gray hair overthere. "

"Oh, I don't want to go out, " said Starr. "I like it. I never was in agreat meeting like this. I like to hear them cheer. "

Her cheeks were rosy, for in her heart she was finding out that she had agreat longing to stay there and watch Michael a little longer. 

"I am sorry to have to tell you that our friend and advertised speakerfor the evening was called away by the sudden and serious illness ofhis mother, and left for the West on the six o'clock express, " said thechairman in his inadequate little voice that seemed always straining beyondits height and never accomplishing anything in the way of being heard. 

A sigh of disappointment swept over the part of the audience near enough tothe platform to hear, and some men reached for their hats. 

"Well, now that's a pity, " whispered Endicott. "I guess we better go beforethey slip in any dry old substitutes. I've been seen here, that's enough. "

But Starr laid a detaining hand on her father's arm. 

"Wait a little, Daddy, " she said softly. 

"But he has sent a substitute, " went on the chairman, "a man whom he saysis a hundred per cent. Better able to talk on the subject than himself. Hespoke to me from the station 'phone just before he left and told me that hefelt that you would all agree he had done well to go when you had heard theman whom he has sent in his place. I have the pleasure to introduce to youMr. Michael Endicott who will speak to you this evening on the "Needs ofthe Tenement Dwellers"--Mr. Endicott. "

Amid the silence that ensued after the feebly-polite applause Michael rose. For just an instant he stood, looking over the audience and a strangesubtle thrill ran over the vast assemblage. 

Then Michael, insensibly measuring the spacious hall, flung his clear, beautiful voice out into it, and reached the uttermost bounds of the room. 

"Did you know that there are in this city now seventy-one thousand eighthundred and seventy-seven totally dark rooms; some of them connected withan air-shaft twenty-eight inches wide and seventy feet deep; many of themabsolutely without access to even a dark shaft; and that these rooms arethe only place in the whole wide, beautiful world for thousands of littlechildren, unless they stay in the street?"

The sentence shot through the audience like a great deliberate bolt oflightning that crashed through the hearts of the hearers and tore awayevery vestige of their complacency. The people sat up and took notice. Starr thrilled and trembled, she knew not why. 

"There is a tenement with rooms like this, a 'dumb-bell' tenement, it iscalled, in the alley where, for aught I know, I was born--"

"Oh!" The sound swept over the listeners in a great wave like a sob ofprotest. Men and women raised their opera glasses and looked at the speakeragain. They asked one another: "Who is he?" and settled quiet to hear whatmore he had to say. 

Then Michael went on to tell of three dark little rooms in "his" tenementwhere a family of eight, accustomed to better things, had been forcedby circumstances to make their home; and where in the dark the germsof tuberculosis had been silently growing, until the whole family wereinfected. He spoke of a little ten-year-old girl, living in one of theselittle dark rooms, pushed down on the street by a playmate, an accidentthat would have been thought nothing of in a healthy child, but in thislittle one it produced tubercular meningitis and after two days of agonythe child died. He told of a delicate girl, who with her brother were thesole wage earners of the family, working all day, and sewing far into thenight to make clothes for the little brothers and sisters, who had fallenprey to the white plague. 

He told instance after instance of sickness and death all resulting fromthe terrible conditions in this one tenement, until a delicate, refinedlooking woman down in the audience who had dropped in with her husband fora few minutes on the way to some other gathering, drew her soft mantleabout her shoulders with a shiver and whispered: "Really, Charles, it can'tbe healthy to have such a terrible state of things in the city where welive. I should think germs would get out and float around to us. Somethingought to be done to clean such low creatures out of a decent community. Dolet's go now. I don't feel as if I could listen to another word. I shan'tbe able to enjoy the reception. "

But the husband sat frowning and listening to the end of the speech, vouchsafing to her whisper only the single growl:

"Don't be a fool, Selina!"

On and on Michael went, literally taking his audience with him, throughroom after room of "his" tenement, showing them horrors they had neverdreamed; giving them now and again a glimmer of light when he told of acurtained window with fifteen minutes of sun every morning, where a littlecripple sat to watch for her sunbeam, and push her pot of geraniums alongthe sill that it might have the entire benefit of its brief shining. He putthe audience into peals of laughter over the wit of some poor creatures incertain trying situations, showing that a sense of humor is not lacking in"the other half"; and then set them weeping over a little baby's funeral. 

He told them forcibly how hard the workers were trying to clean out andimprove this terrible state of things. How cruelly slow the owner of thisparticular tenement was even to cut windows into dark air shafts; how sofar it had been impossible to discover the name of the true owner of thebuilding, because he had for years successfully hidden behind agents whoheld the building in trust. 

The speech closed in a mighty appeal to the people of New York to rise upin a mass and wipe out this curse of the tenements, and build in theirplaces light, airy, clean, wholesome dwellings, where people might live andwork and learn the lessons of life aright, and where sin could find no darkhole in which to hatch her loathsome offspring. 

As Michael sat down amid a burst of applause such as is given to fewspeakers, another man stepped to the front of the platform; and the cheersof commendation were hushed somewhat, only to swell and break forth again;for this man was one of the city's great minds, and always welcome on anyplatform. He had been asked to make the final appeal for funds for theplaygrounds. It had been considered a great stroke of luck on the part ofthe committee to secure him. 

"My friends, " said he when the hush came at last and he could be heard, "Iappreciate your feelings. I would like to spend the remainder of the nightin applauding the man who has just finished speaking. "

The clamor showed signs of breaking forth again:

"This man has spoken well because he has spoken from his heart. And he hastold us that he knows whereof he speaks, for he has lived in those tenementrooms himself, one of the little children like those for whom he pleads. Iam told that he has given almost every evening for four years out of a busylife which is just opening into great promise, to help these people of his. I am reminded as I have been listening to him of Lanier's wonderful poem, 'The Marshes of Glynn. ' Do you recall it?

 "'Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won God out of knowledge, and good out of infinite pain, And sight out of blindness, and purity out of a stain. '

"Let us get to work at once and do our duty. I see you do not need urging. My friends, if such a man as this, a prince among men, can come out of theslums, then the slums are surely worth redeeming. "

The audience thundered and clamored and thundered again; women sobbedopenly, while the ushers hurried about collecting the eager offerings ofthe people, for Michael had won the day and everybody was ready to give. It sort of helped to get the burden of such a state of things off theirconsciences. 

Starr had sat through the whole speech with glowing cheeks and lashes wet. Her heart throbbed with wonder and a kind of personal pride in Michael. Somehow all the years that had passed between seemed to have dropped awayand she saw before her the boy who had told her of the Florida sunset, andfilled her with childish admiration over his beautiful thoughts. His storyappealed to her. The lives of the little ones about whom he had beentelling were like his poor neglected existence before her father took himup; the little lonely life that had been freely offered to save her own. 

She forgot now all that had passed between, her anger at his not coming toride; and after her return from abroad, not coming to call; nor acceptingher invitations; her rage at his interference in her affairs. Herpersistence in her own folly seemed now unspeakable. She was ashamed ofherself. The tears were streaming down her cheeks, but of this she wasquite unaware. 

When the speeches were over and the uproar of applause had somewhatsubsided, Starr turned to her father her face aglow, her lashes stilldewy with tears. Her father had been silent and absorbed. His face wasinscrutable now. He had a way of masking his emotions even to those whoknew him best. 

"Daddy, dear, " whispered Starr, "couldn't we buy that tenement and build itover? I should so love to give those little children happy homes. "

Endicott turned and looked at his treasured child, her lovely face alleagerness now. She had infinite faith in her father's ability to purchaseanything she wanted. The father himself had been deeply stirred. He lookedat her searchingly at first; then yearningly, tenderly, but his voice wasalmost gruff as he said:

"H'm! I'll see about it!"

"Couldn't you let Michael know now, daddy? I think it would be such a helpto him to know that his speech has done some good. " The voice was verysweet and appealing. "Couldn't you send him word by one of the ushers?"

"H'm! I suppose I could. " Endicott took out his fountain pen and a businesscard, and began to write. 

"You don't suppose, daddy, that the owner will object to selling? Therewon't be any trouble about it that way, will there?"

"No, I don't think there'll be any trouble. "

Endicott slipped the card into an envelope he found in his pocket andcalling an usher asked him to take it to the platform to Michael. What hehad written was this:

"I suppose you have been talking about my property. Pull the tenement downif you like and build a model one. I'll foot the bills. D. E. "

When Michael, surprised at receiving a communication on the platform, torethe envelope open and read, his face fairly blazed with glory. Starr waswatching him, and her heart gave a queer little throb of pleasure atthe light in his eyes. The next instant he was on his feet, and with awhispered word to the chairman, came to the front of the platform. Hisraised hand brought instant silence. 

"I have good news. May I share it with you? The owner of that tenement isin this house, and has sent me word that he will tear it down and build amodel one in its place!"

The ring in Michael's voice, and the light on his face was equivalent to adozen votes of thanks. The audience rose to its feet and cheered:

"Daddy! Oh, daddy! Are you the owner?" There was astonishment, reproof, excuse, and forgiveness all mingled in Starr's voice. 

"Come Starr, " said her father abruptly, "we'd better go home. This is a hotnoisy place and I'm tired. "

"Daddy dear! Of course you didn't know how things were!" said Starrsweetly. "You didn't, did you, daddy?"

"No, I didn't know, " said Endicott evasively, "that Michael has a greatgift of gab! Would you like to stop and have an ice somewhere, daughter?"

"No, daddy, I'd rather go home and plan how to make over that tenement. Idon't believe I'd enjoy an ice after what I've heard to-night. Why is itsome people have so much more than others to start with?"

"H'm! Deep question, child, better not trouble your brains with it, " andStarr saw that her father, though deeply moved, did not wish to discuss thematter. 

The next day Michael called at Endicott's office but did not find himin, and wrote a letter out of the overwhelming joy of his heart, askingpermission to call and thank his benefactor and talk over plans. Thefollowing day he received the curt reply:

"Son:--Make your plans to suit yourself. Don't spare expense within reason. No thanks needed. I did it for Starr. You made a good speech. "

Michael choked down his disappointment over this rebuff, and tried to takeall the joy of it. He was not forgiven yet. He might not enter the sacredprecincts of intercourse again; but he was beloved. He could not helpfeeling that, because of that "Son" with which the communication began. Andthe grudging praise his speech received was more to Michael than all theadulation that people had been showering upon him since the night of themass meeting. But Starr! Starr knew about it. He did it for Starr! She hadwanted it! She had perhaps been there! She must have been there, or howelse would she have known? The thought thrilled him, and thrilled himanew! Oh, if he might have seen her before him! But then perhaps he wouldnot have been able to tell his story, and so it was just as well. ButStarr was interested in his work, his plans! What a wonderful thing tohave her work with him even in this indirect way. Oh, if some day! If--!

But right here Michael shut down his thoughts and went to work. 

CHAPTER XXVI

Late in January Michael was taking his nightly walk homeward by way of theEndicott home. He was convinced that Starr was still away from home, for hehad seen no lights now for several weeks in the room that he knew was herown, but there was always the chance that she might have returned. 

He was nearing the house when he saw from the opposite direction a man turnthe corner and with halting gait come slowly toward the house and pausebefore the steps uncertainly. Something familiar in the man's attitudecaused Michael to hasten his steps, and coming closer he found that it wasMr. Endicott himself, and that he stood looking up the steps of his home asthough they had been a difficult hill which he must climb. 

Michael stopped beside him, saying good evening, the thrill of his voiceconveying his own joy in the meeting in addition to a common greeting. 

"Is that you, Son?" asked the older man swaying slightly toward him. "I'mglad you came. I feel strangely dizzy. I wish you'd help me in. "

Michael's arm was about the other's shoulders at once and his readystrength almost lifted his benefactor up the steps. His steady hand withthe key made short work of the night latch, and without waiting to call aservant he helped Mr. Endicott up to his room and to his bed. 

The man sank back wearily with a sigh and closed his eyes, then suddenlyroused himself. 

"Thank you, Son; and will you send a message to Starr that I am not able tocome on to-night as I promised? Tell her I'll likely be all right to-morrowand will try to come then. You'll find the address at the head of thetelephone list in the hall there. I guess you'll have to 'phone for thedoctor. I don't seem to feel like myself. There must be something thematter. I think I've taken a heavy cold. "

Michael hurried to the 'phone and called up the physician begging him tocome at once, for he could see that Mr. Endicott was very ill. His voicetrembled as he gave the message to the Western Union over the 'phone. Itseemed almost like talking to Starr, though he sent the telegram in herfather's name. 

The message sent, he hurried back to the sick man, who seemed to havefallen in a sort of stupor. His face was flushed and hot, the veins in histemples and neck were throbbing rapidly. In all his healthy life Michaelhad seen little of illness, but he recognized it now and knew it must bea violent attack. If only he knew something to do until the doctor shouldarrive!

Hot water used to be the universal remedy for all diseases at college. Thematron always had some one bring hot water when anyone was ill. Michaelwent downstairs to find a servant, but they must all be asleep, for he hadbeen unusually late in leaving the alley that night. 

However, he found that the bath-room would supply plenty of hot water, sohe set to work to undress his patient, wrap him in a blanket and soak hisfeet in hot water. But the patient showed signs of faintness, and wasunable to sit up. A footbath under such conditions was difficult toadminister. The unaccustomed nurse got his patient into bed again witharduous labor, and was just wondering what to do next when the doctorarrived. 

Michael watched the grave face of the old doctor as he examined the sickman, and knew that his intuitions had been right. Mr. Endicott was veryseriously ill. The doctor examined his patient with deliberation, his facegrowing more and more serious. At last he stepped out of the room andmotioned Michael to follow him. 

"Are you a relative, young man?" he asked looking at Michael keenly. 

"No, only one who is very much indebted to him. "

"Well, it's lucky for him if you feel that indebtedness now. Do you knowwhat is the matter with him?"

"No, " said Michael. "He looks pretty sick to me. What is it?"

"Smallpox!" said the doctor laconically, "and a tough case at that. " Thenhe looked keenly at the fine specimen of manhood before him, noting withalert eye that there had been no blanching of panic in the beautiful face, no slightest movement as if to get out of the room. The young man was not acoward, anyway. 

"How long have you been with him?" he asked abruptly. 

"Since I telephoned you, " said Michael, "I happened to be passing the houseand saw him trying to get up the steps alone. He was dizzy, he said, andseemed glad to have me come to his help. "

"Have you ever been vaccinated?"

"No, " said Michael indifferently. 

"The wisest thing for you to do would be to get out of the room at once andlet me vaccinate you. I'll try to send a nurse to look after him as soon aspossible. Where are the family? Not at home? And the servants will probablyscatter as soon as they learn what's the matter. A pity he hadn't beentaken to the hospital, but it's hardly safe to move him now. The fact is heis a very sick man, and there's only one chance in a hundred of saving him. You've run some big risks, taking care of him this way--"

"Any bigger than you are running, doctor?" Michael smiled gravely. 

"H'm! Well, it's my business, and I don't suppose it is yours. There arepeople who are paid for those things. Come get out of this room or I won'tanswer for the consequences. "

"The consequences will have to answer for themselves, doctor. I'm going tostay here till somebody better comes to nurse him. "

Michael's eyes did not flinch as he said this. 

"Suppose you take the disease?"

Michael smiled, one of his brilliant smiles that you could almost hear itwas so bright. 

"Why, then I will, " said Michael, "but I'll stay well long enough to takecare of him until the nurse comes anyway. "

"You might die!"

"Of course. " In a tone with not a ruffle in the calm purpose. 

"Well, it's my duty to tell you that you'd probably be throwing your lifeaway, for there's only a chance that he won't die. "

"Not throwing it away if I made him suffer a little less. And you saidthere was a chance. If I didn't stay he might miss that chance, mightn'the?"

"Probably. "

"Can I do anything to help or ease him?"

"Yes. "

"Then I stay. I should stay anyway until some one came. I couldn't leavehim so. "

"Very well, then. I'm proud to know a man like you. There's plenty to bedone. Let's get to work. "

The hour that followed was filled with instructions and labor. Michael hadno time to think what would become of his work, or anything. He only knewthat this was the present duty and he went forward in it step by step. Before the doctor left he vaccinated Michael, and gave him carefuldirections how to take all necessary precautions for his own safety; buthe knew from the lofty look in the young man's face, that these were meresecondary considerations with him. If the need came for the sake of thepatient, all precautions would be flung aside as not mattering one whit. 

The doctor roused the servants and told them what had happened, and triedto persuade them to stay quietly in their places, and he would see thatthey ran no risks if they obeyed his directions. But to a man and a womanthey were panic stricken; gathering their effects, they, like the Arabsof old, folded their tents and silently stole away in the night. Beforemorning dawned Michael and his patient were in sole possession of thehouse. 

Early in the morning there came a call from the doctor. He had not beenable to secure the nurse he hoped to get. Could Michael hold the fort afew hours longer? He would relieve him sooner if possible, but experiencednurses for contagious cases were hard to get just now. There was a greatdeal of sickness. He might be able to get one this morning but it wasdoubtful. He had telephoned everywhere. 

Of course Michael would hold the fort. 

The doctor gave explicit directions, asked a number of questions, andpromised to call as soon as possible. 

Michael, alone in the great silence that the occasional babble of adelirious person emphasizes in an otherwise empty house, began to think ofthings that must be done. Fortunately there was a telephone in the room. He would not have to leave his patient alone. He called up Will French andtold him in a few words what had happened; laughed pleasantly at Will'sfears for him; asked him to look after the alley work and to attend to oneor two little matters connected with his office work which could not be putoff. Then he called up Sam at the farm, for Michael had long ago found itnecessary to have a telephone put in at Old Orchard. 

The sound of Sam's voice cheered his heart, when, after Michael's briefsimple explanation of his present position as trained nurse for the headof the house of Endicott who lay sick of smallpox, Sam responded with adismayed "Fer de lub o' Mike!"

When Michael had finished all his directions to Sam, and received hispartner's promise to do everything just as Michael would have done it, Sambroke out with:

"Say, does dat ike know what he's takin' off'n you?"

"Who? Mr. Endicott? No, Sam, he doesn't know anything. He's delirious. "

"Ummm!" grunted Sam deeply troubled. "Well, he better fin' out wen he getshisself agin er there'll be sompin' comin' to him. "

"He's done a great deal for me, Sam. "

"Ummm! Well, you're gettin' it back on him sure thing now, all right. Say, you t' care o' yer'se'f, Mikky! We-all can't do nothin' w'th'ut yer. Youlemme know every day how you be. "

"Sure Sam!" responded Michael deeply touched by the choking sound of Sam'svoice. "Don't you worry. I'm sound as a nut. Nothing'll happen to me. Thedoctor vaccinated me, and I'll not catch it. You look after things for meand I'll be on deck again some day all the better for the rest. "

Michael sat back in the chair after hanging up the receiver, his eyesglistening with moisture. To think the day had come when Sam should carelike that! It was a miracle. 

Michael went back again to the bed to look after his patient, and after hehad done everything that the doctor had said, he decided to reconnoitre forsome breakfast. There must be something in the house to eat even if theservants had all departed, and he ought to eat so that his strength shouldbe equal to his task. 

It was late in the morning, nearly half-past ten. The young man hurrieddownstairs and began to ransack the pantry. He did not want to be long awayfrom the upper room. Once, as he was stooping to search the refrigeratorfor butter and milk he paused in his work and thought he heard a soundat the front door, but then all seemed still, and he hurriedly put a fewthings on a tray and carried them upstairs. He might not be able to comedown again for several hours. But when he reached the top of the stairs heheard a voice, not his patient's, but a woman's voice, sweet and clear andtroubled:

"Daddy! Oh, daddy dear! Why don't you speak to your little girl? What isthe matter? Can't you understand me? Your face and your poor hands are sohot, they burn me. Daddy, daddy dear!"

It was Starr's voice and Michael's heart stood still with the thrill of it, and the instant horror of it. Starr was in there in the room of death withher father. She was exposed to the terrible contagion; she, the beautiful, frail treasure of his heart!

He set the tray down quickly on the hall table and went swiftly to thedoor. 

She sat on the side of the bed, her arms about her father's unconsciousform and her head buried in his neck, sobbing. 

For an instant Michael was frozen to the spot with horror at her dangeroussituation. If she had wanted to take the disease she could not have found amore sure way of exposing herself. 

The next instant Michael's senses came back and without stopping to thinkhe sprang forward and caught her up in his arms, bearing her from the roomand setting her down at the bath-room door. 

"Oh, Starr! what have you done!" he said, a catch in his voice like a sob, for he did not know what he was saying. 

Starr, frightened, struggling, sobbing, turned and looked at him. 

"Michael! How did you come to be here? Oh, what is the matter with myfather?"

"Go wash your hands and face quickly with this antiseptic soap, " hecommanded, all on the alert now, and dealing out the things the doctorhad given him for his own safety, "and here! rinse your mouth with thisquickly, and gargle your throat! Then go and change your things as quick asyou can. Your father has the smallpox and you have been in there close tohim. "

"The smallpox!"

"Hurry!" commanded Michael, handing her the soap and turning on the hotwater. 

Starr obeyed him because when Michael spoke in that tone people always didobey, but her frightened eyes kept seeking his face for some reassurance. 

"The smallpox! Oh, Michael! How dreadful! But how do you know? Has thedoctor been here? And how did you happen to be here?"

"I was passing last night when your father came home and he asked me tohelp him in. Yes, the doctor was here, and will soon come again and bring anurse. Now hurry! You must get away from the vicinity of this room!"

"But I'm not going away!" said Starr stubbornly. "I'm going to stay by myfather. He'll want me. "

"Your father would be distressed beyond measure if he knew that you wereexposed to such terrible danger. I know that he would far rather have yougo away at once. Besides, he is delirious, and your presence cannot do himany good now. You must take care of yourself, so that when he gets well youwill be well too, and able to help him get back into health again. "

"But you are staying. "

"It does not matter about me, " said Michael, "there is no one to care. Besides, I am a man, and perfectly strong. I do not think I will takethe disease. Now please take off those things you wore in there and getsomething clean that has not been in the room and go away from here asquickly as you can. "

Michael had barely persuaded her to take precautions when the doctorarrived with a nurse and the promise of another before night. 

He scolded Starr thoroughly for her foolhardiness in going into herfather's room. He had been the family physician ever since she was born, knew her well; and took the privilege of scolding when he liked. Starrmeekly succumbed. There was just one thing she would not do, and that wasto go away out of the house while her father remained in so critical acondition. The doctor frowned and scolded, but finally agreed to let herstay. And indeed it seemed as if perhaps it was the only thing that couldbe done; for she had undoubtedly been exposed to the disease, and wassubject to quarantine. There seemed to be no place to which she couldsafely go, where she could be comfortable, and the house was amply largeenough for two or three parties to remain in quarantine in severaldetachments. 

There was another question to be considered. The nurses would have theirhands full with their patient. Some one must stay in the house and lookafter things, see that they needed nothing, and get some kind of meals. Starr, of course, knew absolutely nothing about cooking, and Michael'sexperience was limited to roasting sweet potatoes around a bonfire atcollege, and cooking eggs and coffee at the fireplace on the farm. But agood cook to stay in a plague-stricken dwelling would be a thing of time, if procurable at all; so the doctor decided to accept the willing servicesof these two. Starr was established in her own room upstairs, which couldbe shut away from the front part of the house by a short passage-way andtwo doors, with access to the lower floor by means of the back stairs; andMichael made a bed of the soft couch in the tiny reception room where hehad twice passed through trying experiences. Great curtains kept constantlywet with antiseptics shut away the sick room and adjoining apartments fromthe rest of the house. 

It was arranged that Michael should place such supplies as were needed atthe head of the stairs, just outside the guarding curtains, and the nursesshould pass all dishes through an antiseptic bath before sending themdownstairs again. The electric bells and telephones with which the housewas well supplied made it possible for them to communicate with one anotherwithout danger of infection. 

Starr was at once vaccinated and the two young people received manyprecautions, and injunctions, with medicine and a strict régime; and eventhen the old doctor shook his head dubiously. If those two beautiful facesshould have to pass through the ordeal of that dread disease his old heartwould be quite broken. All that skill and science could do to prevent itshould be done. 

So the house settled down to the quiet of a daily routine; the busy cityhumming and thundering outside, but no more a part of them than if theyhad been living in a tomb. The card of warning on the door sent all theneighbors in the block scurrying off in a panic to Palm Beach or Europe;and even the strangers passed by on the other side. The grocery boy andthe milkman left their orders hurriedly on the front steps and Michael andStarr might almost have used the street for an exercise ground if they hadchosen, so deserted had it become. 

But there was no need for them to go farther than the door in front, forthere was a lovely side and back yard, screened from the street by a highwall, where they might walk at will when they were not too busy with theirwork; which for their unskilled hands was hard and laborious. Nevertheless, their orders were strict, and every day they were out for a couple of hoursat least. To keep from getting chilled, Michael invented all sorts of gameswhen they grew tired of just walking; and twice after a new fall of snowthey went out and had a game of snowballing, coming in with glowing facesand shining eyes, to change wet garments and hurry back to their kitchenwork. But this was after the first few serious days were passed, and thedoctor had given them hope that if all went well there was a good chance ofthe patient pulling through. 

They settled into their new life like two children who had known each othera long time. All the years between were as if they had not been. They madetheir blunders; were merry over their work; and grew into each other'scompanionship charmingly. Their ideas of cooking were most primitive andhad it not been possible to order things sent in from caterers they and thenurses might have been in danger of starving to death. But as it was, whatwith telephoning to the nurses for directions, and what with studying therecipes on the outside of boxes of cornstarch and farina and oatmeal andthe like that they found in the pantry, they were learning day by day to doa little more. 

And then, one blessed day, the dear nurse Morton walked in and took offher things and stayed. Morton had been on a long-delayed visit to her oldfather in Scotland that winter; but when she saw in the papers the noticeof the calamity that had befallen the house of her old employer, she packedher trunk and took the first steamer back to America. Her baby, and herbaby's father needed her, and nothing could keep Morton away after that. 

Her coming relieved the situation very materially, for though she had neverbeen a fancy cook, she knew all about good old-fashioned Scotch dishes, andfrom the first hour took up her station in the kitchen. Immediately comfortand orderliness began to reign, and Starr and Michael had time on theirhands that was not spent in either eating, sleeping, working or exercise. 

It was then that they began to read together, for the library was filledwith all the treasures of literature, to many of which Michael had neverhad access save through the public libraries, which of course was not assatisfactory as having books at hand when one had a bit of leisure in abusy life. Starr had been reading more than ever before this winter whilewith her aunt, and entered into the pleasant companionship of a booktogether with zest. 

Then there were hours when Starr played softly, and sang, for the piano wasfar from the sick room and could not be heard upstairs. Indeed, if it hadnot been for the anxious struggle going on upstairs, these two would havebeen having a beautiful time. 

For all unknowing to themselves they were growing daily into a dear delightin the mere presence of one another. Even Michael, who had long ago laiddown the lines between which he must walk through life, and never expectedto be more to Starr than a friend and protector, did not realize whitherthis intimate companionship was tending. When he thought of it at all hethought that it was a precious solace for his years of loneliness; a timethat must be enjoyed to the full, and treasured in memory for the days ofbarrenness that must surely follow. 

Upstairs the fight went on day after day, until at last one morning thedoctor told them that it had been won, that the patient, though very muchenfeebled, would live and slowly get back his strength. 

That was a happy morning. The two caught each, other's hands and whirledjoyously round the dining-room when they heard it; and Morton came in withher sleeves rolled up, and her eyes like two blue lakes all blurred withraindrops in the sunlight. Her face seemed like a rainbow. 

The next morning the doctor looked the two over before he went upstairs andset a limit to their quarantine. If they kept on doing well they would bereasonably safe from taking the disease. It would be a miracle, almost, ifneither of them took it; but it began to look as if they were going to beall right. 

Now these two had been so absorbed in one another that they had thoughtvery little about the danger of their taking the disease themselves. Ifeither had been alone in the house with nothing to do but brood it wouldhave probably been the sole topic of thought, but their healthy busy hourshad helped the good work on, and so they were coming safely out from underthe danger. 

It was one bright morning when they were waiting for the doctor to comethat Michael was glancing over the morning paper, and Starr trying a newsong she had sent for that had just come in the mail the evening before. She wanted to be able to play it for Michael to sing. 

Suddenly Michael gave a little exclamation of dismay, and Starr, turning onthe piano stool, saw that his face was white and he was staring out of thewindow with a drawn, sad look about his mouth and eyes. 

"What is it?" she asked in quick, eager tones of sympathy, and Michaelturning to look at her vivid beauty, his heart thrilling with the sound ofher voice, suddenly felt the wide gulf that had always been between them, for what he had read in the paper had shaken him from his happy dream andbrought him back to a sudden realization of what he was. 

The item in the paper that had brought about this rude awakening was anaccount of how Buck had broken jail and escaped. Michael's great heartwas filled with trouble about Buck; and instantly he remembered that hebelonged to the same class with Buck; and not at all in the charmed circlewhere Starr moved. 

He looked at the girl with grave, tender eyes, that yet seemed to be lessintimate than they had been all these weeks. Her sensitive nature felt thedifference at once. 

He let her read the little item. 

Starr's face softened with ready sympathy, and a mingling of indignation. "He was one of those people in your tenements you have been trying tohelp?" she questioned, trying to understand his look. "He ought to havebeen ashamed to get into jail after you had been helping him. Wasn't he asort of a worthless fellow?"

"No, " said Michael in quick defense, "he never had a chance. And he was notjust one of those people, he was _the_ one. He was the boy who took care ofme when I was a little fellow, and who shared everything he had, hard crustor warm cellar door, with me. I think he loved me--"

There was something in Michael's face and voice that warned Starr thesewere sacred precincts, where she must tread lightly if she did not wish todesecrate. 

"Tell me about him, " she breathed softly. 

So Michael, his eyes tender, his voice gentle, because she had cared toknow, told her eloquently of Buck, till when he had finished her eyes werewet with tears; and she looked so sweet that he had to turn his own eyesaway to keep from taking the lovely vision into his arms and kissing her. It was a strange wild impulse he had to do this, and it frightened him. Suppose some day he should forget himself, and let her see how he had daredto love her? That must never be. He must put a watch upon himself. Thissweet friendship she had vouchsafed him must never be broken by word, lookor action of his. 

And from that morning there came upon his manner a change, subtle, intangible, --but a change. 

They read and talked together, and Michael opened his heart to her as hehad not yet done, about his work in the alley, his farm colony, and hishopes for his people; Starr listened and entered eagerly into his plans, yet felt the change that had come upon him, and her troubled spirit knewnot what it was. 

CHAPTER XXVII

All this while Michael had been in daily communication with Sam, as well aswith Will French, who with Hester's help had kept the rooms in the alleygoing, though they reported that the head had been sorely missed. 

Sam had reported daily progress with the house and about two weeks beforeMichael's release from quarantine announced that everything was done, evento the papering of the walls and oiling of the floors. 

A fire had been burning in the furnace and fireplaces for several weeks, sothe plaster was thoroughly dry, and it was Michael's plan that Starr andher father were to go straight down to the farm as soon as they were freeto leave the house. 

To this end Hester and Will had been given daily commissions to purchasethis and that needful article of furniture, until now at last Michael feltthat the house would be habitable for Starr and her precious invalid. 

During the entire winter Michael had pleased himself in purchasing rugshere and there, and charming, fitting, furniture for the house he wasbuilding. A great many things, --the important things, --had already beenselected, and Michael knew he could trust Hester's taste for the rest. Forsome reason he had never said much to Starr about either Hester or Will, perhaps because they had always seemed to him to belong to one another, andthus were somewhat set apart from his own life. 

But one morning, Starr, coming into the library where Michael wastelephoning Hester about some last purchases she was making, overheardthese words: "All right Hester, you'll know best of course, but I think youbetter make it a dozen instead of a half. It's better to have too many thantoo few; and we might have company, you know. "

Now, of course, Starr couldn't possibly be supposed to know that it was aquestion of dishes that was being discussed so intimately. In fact, she didnot stop to think what they were talking about; she only knew that he hadcalled this other girl "Hester"; and she suddenly became aware that duringall these weeks of pleasant intercourse, although she had addressed him asMichael, he had carefully avoided using any name at all for her, except onone or two occasions, substituting pronouns wherever possible. She hadnot noticed this before, but when she heard that "Hester" in his pleasanttones, her heart, brought the fact before her at once for invoice. Who wasthis girl Hester? And why was she Hestered so carelessly as though he hada right? Could it be possible that Michael was engaged to her? Why had shenever thought of it before? Of course it would be perfectly natural. Thisother girl had been down in his dear alley, working shoulder to shoulderwith him all these years, and it was a matter of course that he must loveher, Starr's bright morning that but a moment before had been filled withso much sunshine seemed suddenly to cloud over with a blackness thatblotted out all the joy; and though she strove to hide it even fromherself, her spirit was heavy with something she did not understand. 

That evening Michael came into the library unexpectedly. He had been out inthe kitchen helping Morton to open a box that was refractory. He found theroom entirely dark, and thought he heard a soft sound like sobbing in onecorner of the room. 

"Starr!" he said. "Starr, is that you?" nor knew that he had called her byher name, though she knew it very well indeed. She kept quite still for aninstant, and then she rose from the little crumpled heap in the corner ofthe leather couch where she had dropped for a minute in the dark to cry outthe strange ache of her heart when she thought Michael was safely in thekitchen for a while. 

"Why, yes, Michael!" she said, and her voice sounded choky, though she wasstruggling to make it natural. 

Michael stepped to the doorway and turned on the hall lights so that hecould dimly see her little figure standing in the shadow. Then he came overtoward her, his whole heart yearning over her, but a mighty control setupon himself. 

"What is the matter--dear?" He breathed the last word almost under hisbreath. He actually did not realize that he had spoken it aloud. It seemedto envelope her with a deep tenderness. It broke her partial self-controlentirely and she sobbed again for a minute before she could speak. 

Oh, if he but dared to take that dear form into his aims and comfort her!If he but dared! But he had no right!

Michael stood still and struggled with his heart, standing quite near her, yet not touching her. 

"Oh, my dear!" he breathed to himself, in an agony of love andself-restraint. But she did not hear the breath. She was engaged in astruggle of her own, and she seemed to remember that Hester-girl, and knowher duty. She must not let him see how she felt, not for anything in theworld. He was kind and tender. He had always been. He had denied himselfand come here to stay with them in their need because of his gratitudetoward her father for all he had done for him; and he had breathed that"dear" as he would have done to any little child of the tenement whom hefound in trouble. Oh, she understood, even while she let the word comforther lonely heart. Why, oh why had she been left to trifle with a handsomescoundrel? Why hadn't she been worthy to have won the love of a great manlike this one?

These thoughts rushed through her brain so rapidly that they were notformulated at all. Not until hours afterward did she know they had beenthought; but afterwards she sorted them out and put them in array beforeher troubled heart. 

A minute she struggled with her tears, and then in a sweet little voice, like a tired, naughty child she broke out:

"Oh, Michael, you've been so good to me--to us, I mean--staying here allthese weeks and not showing a bit of impatience when you had all that greatwork in the world to do--and I've just been thinking how perfectly horridI was to you last winter--the things I said and wrote to you--and how Itreated you when you were trying to save me from an awful fate! I'm soashamed, and so thankful! It all came over me to-night what I owed you, andI can't ever thank you. Can you forgive me for the horrid way I acted, andfor passing you on the street that Sunday without speaking to you--I'm soashamed! Will you forgive me?"

She put out her little hands with a pathetic motion toward him in the halflight of the room, and he took them in both his great warm ones and heldthem in his firm grasp, his whole frame thrilling with her sweet touch. "Forgive you, little Starr!" he breathed--"I never blamed you--" And thereis no telling what might not have happened if the doctor had not just thenunexpectedly arrived to perfect the arrangements for their going to thefarm. 

When Michael returned from letting the doctor out, Starr had fled upstairsto her room; when they met the next morning it was with the bustle ofpreparation upon them; and each cast shy smiling glances toward the other. Starr knew that she was forgiven, but she also knew that there was a wallreared between them that had not been there before, and her heart achedwith the knowledge. Nevertheless, it was a happy morning, and one could notbe absolutely miserable in the company of Michael, with a father who wasrecovering rapidly, and the prospect of seeing him and going with him intothe beautiful out-of-doors within a few hours. 

Michael went about the work of preparing to go with a look of solemn joy. Solemn because he felt that the wonderful companionship he had had alonewith Starr was so soon to end. Joyful because he could be with her stilland know she had passed through the danger of the terrible disease and comesafely out of the shadow with her beauty as vivid as ever. Besides, hemight always serve her, and they were friends now, not enemies--that was agreat deal!

The little world of Old Orchard stood on tiptoe that lovely spring morningwhen the party came down. The winding road that led to the cottage wasarched all over with bursting bloom, for the apple trees had done theirbest at decorating for the occasion and made a wondrous canopy of pink andwhite for Starr to see as she passed under. 

Not a soul was in sight as they drove up to the cottage save Sam, standingrespectfully to receive them in front of the piazza, and Lizzie, vanishingaround the corner of the cottage with her pretty boy toddling after--forLizzie had come down to be a waitress at Rose Cottage for the summer;--butevery soul on the farm was watching at a safe distance. For Sam, withoutbreathing a word, had managed to convey to them all the knowledge thatthose who were coming as their guests were beloved of Michael, theirangel-hearted man. As though it had been a great ceremony they stood insilent, adoring groups behind a row of thick hedges and watched themarrive, each one glorying in the beauty of her whom in their hearts theycalled "the boss's girl. "

The room stood wide and inviting to receive them. There was a fire of logson the great hearth, and a deep leather chair drawn up before it, with asmaller rocker at one side, and a sumptuous leather coach for the invalidjust to the side of the fireplace, where the light of the flames would notstrike the eyes, yet the warmth would reach him. Soft greens and brownswere blended in the silk pillows that were piled on the couch and on theseats that appeared here and there about the walls as if they grew bynature. The book-case was filled with Michael's favorites, Will Frenchhad seen to this, and a few were scattered on the big table where a greenshaded lamp of unique design, a freshly cut magazine, and a chair drawn atjust the right angle suggested a pleasant hour in the evening. There weretwo or three pictures--these Michael had selected at intervals as helearned to know more about art from his study at the exhibitions. 

"Oh!" breathed Starr. "How lovely! It is a real home!" and the thoughtstruck her that it would probably be Michael's and Hester's some day. However, she would not let shadows come spoiling her good time now, for it_was_ her good time and she had a right to it; and she too was happy in thethought that she and Michael were friends, the kind of friends that cannever be enemies again. 

The invalid sank into the cushions of the couch with a pleased light in hiseyes and said: "Son, this is all right. I'm glad you bought the farm, " andMichael turned with a look of love to the man who had been the only fatherhe had ever known. It was good, good to be reconciled with him, and to knowthat he was on the road to health once more. 

The doctor who had come down with them looked about with satisfaction. 

"I don't see but you are fixed, " he said to Endicott. "I wouldn't mindbeing in your shoes myself. Wish I could stay and help you enjoy yourself. If I had a pair of children like those I'd give up work and come buy a farmalongside, and settle down for life. "

The days at the farm passed in a sort of charmed existence for Starr andher father. Everything they needed seemed to come as if by magic. Everywish of Starr's was anticipated, and she was waited upon devotedly byLizzie, who never by so much as a look tried to win recognition. Starr, however, always keen in her remembrances, knew and appreciated this. 

After the first two days Michael was back and forth in the city. Hisbusiness, which had been steadily growing before his temporary retirementfrom the world, had piled up and was awaiting his attention. His work inthe alley called loudly for him every night, yet he managed to come down tothe farm often and spent all his Sundays there. 

It was one Saturday evening about three weeks after their arrival at thefarm, when they were all seated cosily in the living room of the cottage, the invalid resting on the couch in the shadow, Starr seated close besidehim, the firelight glowing on her face, her hand in her father's; andMichael by the table with, a fresh magazine which he was about to read tothem, that a knock came at the door. 

Opening the door, Michael found Sam standing on the piazza, and anotherdark form huddled behind Him. 

"Come out here, can't yer, Buck's here!"' whispered Sam. 

"Buck!" Michael spoke the word with a joyful ring that thrilled Starr'sheart with sympathy as she sat listening, her ears alert with interest. 

"I'm so glad! So glad!" said Michael's voice again, vibrant with realwelcome. "Come in, Buck, I've a friend in here who knows all about you. No, don't be afraid. You're perfectly safe. What? Through the windows? Well, we'll turn the light out and sit in the firelight. You can go over in thatcorner by the fireplace. No one will see you. The shades are down. "

Michael's voice was low, and he stood within the doorway, but Starr, because she understood the need, heard every word. 

There was dissent in a low whisper outside, and then Sam's voice growled, "Go on in, Buck, ef he says so. " and Buck reluctantly entered, followed bySam. 

Buck was respectably dressed in an old suit of Sam's, with his hands andface carefully washed and his hair combed. Sam had imbibed ideas and wasnot slow to impart them. But Buck stood dark and frowning against theclosed door, his hunted eyes like black coals in a setting of snow, wentfurtively around the room in restless vigilance. His body wore the habitualair of crouching alertness. He started slightly when anyone moved or spoketo him. Michael went quickly over to the table and turned down the lamp. 

"You won't mind sitting in the firelight, will you?" he said to Starr in alow tone, and her eyes told him that she understood. 

"Come over here, Buck, " said Michael motioning toward the sheltered corneron the other side of the fireplace from where Starr was sitting. "This isone of my friends, Miss Endicott, Mr. Endicott. Will you excuse us if wesit here and talk a few minutes? Miss Endicott, you remember my telling youof Buck?"

Starr with sudden inspiration born of the moment, got up and went over towhere the dark-browed Buck stood frowning and embarrassed in the chimneycorner and put out her little roseleaf of a hand to him. Buck looked at itin dismay and did not stir. 

"Why don't yer shake?" whispered Sam. 

Then with a grunt of astonishment Buck put out his rough hand and underwentthe unique experience of holding a lady's hand in his. The hunted eyeslooked up startled to Starr's and like a flash he saw a thought. It was asif her eyes knew Browning's poem and could express his thought to Buck inlanguage he could understand:

 "All I could never be, All men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped. "

Somehow, Starr, with her smile and her eyes, and her gentle manner, unknowingly conveyed that thought to Buck! Poor, neglected, sinful Buck!And Michael, looking on, knew what she had done, and blessed her in hisheart. 

Buck sat down in the chimney corner, half in shadow with the lights fromthe great log flaring over his face. The shades were all drawn down, thedoors were closed He was surrounded by friendly faces. For a few minutesthe hunted eyes ceased their roving round the room, and rested on Starr'ssweet face as she sat quietly, holding her father's hand. It was a sightsuch as poor Buck's eyes had never rested upon in the whole of hischeckered existence, and for the moment he let the sweet wonder of itfilter into his dark, scarred soul, with blessed healing. Then he lookedfrom Starr to Michael's fine face near by, tender with the joy of Buck'scoming, anxious with what might be the outcome; and for a moment the heavylines in forehead and brow that Buck had worn since babyhood softened witha tender look. Perhaps 'tis given, once to even the dullest soul to see, nomatter how low fallen, just what he might have been. 

They had been sitting thus for about fifteen minutes, quietly talking. Michael intended to take Buck upstairs soon and question him, but, first hewanted time to think what he must do. Then suddenly a loud knock startledthem all, and as Michael rose to go to the door there followed him theresounding clatter of the tongs falling on the hearth. 

A voice with a knife edge to it cut through the room and made them allshiver. 

"Good evening, Mr. Endicott!" it said. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but I'vecome on a most unpleasant errand. We're after an escaped criminal, andhe was seen to enter your door a few minutes ago. Of course I know yourgoodness of heart. You take 'em all in, but this one is a jail bird! You'llexcuse me if I take him off your hands. I'll try to do it as quietly andneatly as possible. "

The big, blustery voice ceased and Michael, looking at the sinister gleamof dull metal in the hands of the men who accompanied the county sheriff, knew that the crisis was upon him. The man, impatient, was already pushingpast him into the room. It was of no sort of use to resist. He flung thedoor wide and turned with the saddest look Starr thought she ever had seenon the face of a man:

"I know, " he said, and his voice was filled with sorrow, "I know--but--hewas one whom I loved!"

"Wasted love! Mr. Endicott. Wasted love. Not one of 'em worth it!"blustered the big man walking in. 

Then Michael turned and faced the group around the fireplace and lookingfrom one to another turned white with amazement, for Buck was not amongthem!

Starr sat beside her father in just the same attitude she had heldthroughout the last fifteen minutes, his hand in hers, her face turned, startled, toward the door, and something inscrutable in her eyes. Sam stoodclose beside the fireplace, the tongs which he had just picked up in hishands, and a look of sullen rage upon his face. Nowhere in the whole wideroom was there a sign of Buck, and there seemed no spot where he couldhide. The door into the dining-room was on the opposite wall, and behindit the cheerful clatter of the clearing off of the table could be plainlyheard. If Buck had escaped that way there would have been an outcry fromMorton or the maid. Every window had its shade closely drawn. 

The sheriff looked suspiciously at Michael whose blank face plainly showedhe had no part in making way with the outlaw. The men behind him lookedsharply round and finished with a curious gaze at Starr. Starr, rightlyinterpreting the scene, rose to the occasion. 

"Would they like to look behind this couch?" she said moving quickly to theother side of the fireplace over toward the window, with a warning glancetoward Sam. 

Then while the men began a fruitless search around the room, looking in thechimney closet, and behind the furniture, she took up her stand beside thecorner window. 

It had been Michael's thoughtfulness that had arranged that all the windowsshould have springs worked by the pressing of a button like some carwindows, so that a touch would send them up at will. 

Only Sam saw Starr's hand slide under the curtain a second, and unfastenthe catch at the top; then quickly down and touch the button in the windowsill. The window went up without a noise, and in a moment more the curtainwas moving out gently puffed by the soft spring breeze, and Starr had goneback to her father's side. "I cannot understand it, " said Michael, "he washere a moment ago!"

The sheriff who had been nosing about the fireplace turned and came overto the window, sliding up the shade with a motion and looking out into thedark orchard. 

"H'm! That's where he went, boys, " he said. "After him quick! We ought tohave had a watch at each window as well as at the back. Thank you, Mr. Endicott! Sorry to have troubled you. Good night!" and the sheriffclattered after his men. 

Sam quickly pulled down the window, fastening it, and turned a look ofalmost worshipful understanding on Starr. 

"Isn't that fire getting pretty hot for such a warm night?" said Starrpushing back the hair from her forehead and bright cheeks. "Sam, supposeyou get a little water and pour over that log. I think we will not need anymore fire to-night anyway. "

And Sam, quickly hastened to obey, his mouth stretching in a broad grin ashe went out the door. 

"She'd make a peach of a burglar, " he remarked to himself as he filled abucket with water and hurried back with it to the fire. 

Michael, in his strait betwixt law and love, was deeply troubled and hadfollowed the men out into the dark orchard. 

"Daddy, I think you'd better get up to your room. This excitement has beentoo much for you, " said Starr decidedly. 

But Mr. Endicott demurred. He had been interested in the little drama thathad been enacted before him, and he wanted to sit up and see the end of it. He was inclined to blame Michael for bringing such a fellow into Starr'spresence. 

But Starr laughingly bundled him off to bed and sat for an hour readingto him, her heart all the time in a flutter to know how things came out, wondering if Sam surely understood, and put out the fire; and if it wouldbe safe for her to give him any broader hint. 

At midnight, Michael lay broad awake with troubled spirit, wondering overand over if there was anything he might have done for Buck if he had onlydone it in time--anything that would have been right to do. 

Softly, cautiously a man stole out of the darkness of the orchard until hecame and stood close to the old chimney, and then, softly stealing on themidnight summer air there came a peculiar sibilant sound, clear, piercing, yet blending with the night, and leaving no trace behind of its origin. Onecouldn't tell from whence it came. But Michael, keeping vigil, heard, androse upon his elbow, alert, listening. Was that Buck calling him? It cameagain, softer this time, but distinct. Michael sprang from his bedand began hastily throwing on his garments. That call should never gounanswered!

Stealthily, in the light of the low, late moon, a dark figure stole forthfrom the old chimney top, climbed down on the ladder that had been silentlytilted against it, helped to lay the ladder back innocently in the deepgrass again, and joining the figure on the ground crept away toward theriver where waited a boat. 

Buck lay down, in the bottom of the boat, covered with a piece of sacking, and Sam took up the oars, when a long, sibilant whistle like a night birdfloated keenly through the air. Buck started up and turned suspicious eyeson Sam:

"What's that?"

"It's Mikky, I reckon, " said Sam softly, reverently. "He couldn't sleep. He's huntin' yer!"

Buck lay down with a sound that was almost a moan and the boat took up itssilent glide toward safety. 

"It's fierce ter leave him this 'a'way!" muttered Buck, "Yous tell him, won't yer, an' her--she's a ly-dy, she is. She's all white! Tell herBuck'll do ez much fer her some day ef he ever gits the chanct. "

"In doin' fer her you'd be doin' fer him, I spekullate, " said Sam after along pause. 

"So?" said Buck

"So, " answered Sam. And that was the way Sam told Buck of the identity ofStarr. 

Now Starr, from her darkened window beside the great chimney, had watchedthe whole thing. She waited until she saw Michael come slowly, sadly backfrom his fruitless search through the mist before the dawning, alone, withbowed head; and her heart ached for the problem that was filling him withsorrow. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

Starr was coming up to the city for a little shopping on the early morningtrain with Michael. The summer was almost upon her and she had not preparedher apparel. Besides, she was going away in a few days to be bridesmaid atthe wedding of an old school friend who lived away out West; and secretlyshe told herself she wanted the pleasure of this little trip to town withMichael. 

She was treasuring every one of these beautiful days filled with preciousexperiences, like jewels to be strung on memory's chain, with a vagueunrest lest some close-drawing future was to snatch them from her forever. She wished with all her heart that she had given a decided refusal to herfriend's pleading, but the friend had put off the wedding on her accountto wait until she could leave her father; and her father had joined hisinsistance that she should go away and have the rest and change after theordeal of the winter. So Starr seemed to have to go, much as she wouldrather have remained. She had made a secret vow to herself that she wouldreturn at once after the wedding in spite of all urgings to remain withthe family who had invited her to stay all summer with them. Starr had afeeling that the days of her companionship with Michael might be short. She must make the most of them. It might never be the same again after hergoing away. She was not sure even that her father would consent to remainall summer at the farm as Michael urged. 

And on this lovely morning she was very happy at the thought of going withMichael. The sea seemed sparkling with a thousand gems as the train sweptalong its shore, and Michael told her of his first coming down to see thefarm, called her attention to the flowers along the way: and she assuredhim Old Orchard was far prettier than any of them, now that the roses wereall beginning to bud. It would soon be Rose Cottage indeed!

Then the talk fell on Buck and his brief passing. 

"I wonder where he can be and what he is doing, " sighed Michael. "If heonly could have stayed, long enough for me to have a talk with him. Ibelieve I could have persuaded him to a better way. It is the greatestmystery in the world how he got away with those men watching the house. Icannot understand it. "

Starr, her cheeks rosy, her eyes shining mischievously, looked up at him. 

"Haven't you the least suspicion where he was hiding?" she asked. 

Michael looked down at her with a sudden start, and smiled into her lovelyeyes. 

"Why, no. Have you?" he said, and could not keep the worship from his gaze. 

"Of course. I knew all the time. Do you think it was very dreadful for menot to tell? I couldn't bear to have him caught that way before you'd had achance to help him; and when he used to be so good to you as a little boy;besides, I saw his face, that terrible, hunted look; there wasn't anythingreally wrong in my opening that window and throwing them off the track, wasthere?"

"Did you open the window?"

Starr nodded saucily. "Yes, and Sam saw me do it. Sam knew all about it. Buck went up the chimney right through that hot fire. Didn't you hear thetongs fall down? He went like a flash before you opened the door, and onefoot was still in sight when that sheriff came in. I was so afraid he'd seeit. Was it wrong?"

"I suppose it was, " he said sadly. "The law must be maintained. It can't beset aside for one fellow who has touched one's heart by some childhood'saction. But right or wrong I can't help being glad that you cared to dosomething for poor Buck. "

"I think I did it mostly for--you?" she said softly, her eyes still down. 

For answer, Michael reached out his hand and took her little gloved onethat lay in her lap in a close pressure for just an instant. Then, as if amighty power were forcing him, he laid it gently down again and drew hishand away. 

Starr felt the pressure of that strong hand and the message that it gavethrough long days afterward, and more than once it gave her strength andcourage and good cheer. Come what might, she had a friend--a friend strongand true as an angel. 

They spoke no more till the train swept into the station and they hadhurried through the crowd and were standing on the front of the ferryboat, with the water sparkling before their onward gliding and the whole, great, wicked, stirring city spread before their gaze, the light from the cross onTrinity Church steeple flinging its glory in their faces. 

"Look!" said Michael pointing. "Do you remember the poem we were readingthe other night: Wordsworth's 'Upon Westminster Bridge. ' Doesn't it fitthis scene perfectly? I've often thought of it when I was coming across inthe mornings. To look over there at the beauty one would never dream of allthe horror and wickedness and suffering that lies within those streets. Itis beautiful now. Listen! Do you remember it?

 "'Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth like a garment wear

 "'The beauty of the morning: silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 

 "'Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

 "'The river glideth at its own sweet will: Dear God! The very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!'"

Starr looked long at the picture before her, and then at the face of hercompanion speaking the beautiful lines word by word as one draws in theoutlines of a well-loved picture. 

Michael's hat was off and the beauty of the morning lay in sunlight on hishair and cheek and brow. Her heart swelled within her as she looked andgreat tears filled her eyes. She dared not look longer lest she show herdeep emotion. The look of him, the words he spoke, and the whole wonderfulscene would linger in her memory as long as life should last. 

Two days later Starr started West, and life seemed empty for Michael. Shewas gone from him, but still she would come back. Or, would she come backafter all? How long could he hope to keep her if she did? Sad forebodingfilled him and he went about his work with set, strained nerves; for nowhe knew that right or wrong she was heart of his heart, part of hisconsciousness. He loved her better than himself; and he saw no hope forhimself at all in trying to forget. Yet, never, never, would he ask her toshare the dishonor of his heritage. 

The day before Starr was expected to come back to Old Orchard Michael tookup the morning paper and with rising horror read:

 BANDIT WOUNDED AS FOUR HOLD UP TRAIN. 

 Express Messenger Protects Cash During Desperate Revolver Duel in Car. 

 Fort Smith, Ark. --Four bandits bungled the hold-up of a Kansas City passenger train, between Hatfield and Mena, Ark. , early to-day. One was probably fatally wounded and captured and the others escaped after a battle with the Express Messenger in which the messenger exhausted his ammunition and was badly beaten. 

 When the other robbers escaped the wounded bandit eluded the conductor, and made his way into the sleeper, where he climbed into an empty berth. But he was soon traced by the drops of blood from his wound. The conductor and a brakeman hauled him out and battled with him in the aisle amid the screams of passengers. 

 The bandit aimed his revolver at the conductor and fired, but a sudden unsteady turn of his wrist sent the bullet into himself instead of the conductor. The wounded bandit received the bullet in his left breast near the heart and will probably die. The Express Messenger is in the hospital at Mena and may recover. 

 Had the bullet of the bandit gone as intended it would more than likely have wounded one or two women passengers, who at the sound of trouble had jumped from their berths into the aisle and were directly in the path of the bullet. 

 There is some likelihood that the captured bandit may prove to be the escaped convict, named "Buck, " who was serving long sentence in the state penitentiary, and for whom the police have been searching in vain for the last three months. 

Michael was white and trembling when he had finished reading this account. And was this then to be the end of Buck. Must he die a death like that?Disgrace and sin and death, and no chance to make good? Michael groanedaloud and bowed his head upon the table before him, his heart too heavyeven to try to think it out. 

That evening a telegram reached him from Arkansas. 

"A man named 'Buck' is dying here, and calls incessantly for you. If youwish to see him alive come at once. "

Michael took the midnight train. Starr had telegraphed her father she wouldreach Old Orchard in the morning. It was hard to have to go when, she wasjust returning. Michael wondered if it would always be so now. 

Buck roused at Michael's coming and smiled feebly. 

"Mikky! I knowed you'd come!" he whispered feebly. "I'm done for, pardner. I ain't long fer here, but I couldn't go 'thout you knowin'. I'd meant togit jes' this one haul an' git away to some other country where it wassafe, 'nen I was goin' to try'n keep straight like you would want. Iwould a'got trough all right, but I seen her, --the pretty lady, --yourgirl, --standing in the aisle right ahin' the c'ndct'r, jes' es I wuzpullin' the trigger knowed her right off, 'ith her eyes shinin' like twostars; an' I couldn't run no resks. I ain't never bin no bungler at mytrade, but I hed to bungle this time 'cause I couldn't shoot your girl! SoI turned it jes' in time an' took it mese'f. She seen how 'twas 'ith methat time at your house, an' she he'ped me git away. I sent her word I'd dothe same fer her some day, bless her--an' now--you tell her we're square!I done the bunglin' fer her sake, but I done it fer you too, pard--littlepard--Mikky!"

"Oh, Buck!" Michael knelt beside the poor bed and buried his face in thecoverlet. "Oh, Buck! If you'd only had my chance!" he moaned. 

"Never you mind, Mikky! I ain't squealin'. I knows how to take my dose. An'mebbe, they'll be some kind of a collidge whar I'm goin', at I kin get atry at yet--don't you fret, little pard--ef I git my chancet I'll take itfer your sake!"

The life breath seemed to be spent with the effort and Buck sank slowlyinto unconsciousness and so passed out of a life that had been all againsthim. 

Michael after doing all the last little things that were permitted him, sadly took his way home again. 

He reached the city in the morning and spent several hours putting torights his business affairs; but by noon he found himself so unutterablyweary that he took the two o'clock train down to the farm. Sam met him atthe station. Sam somehow seemed to have an intuition when to meet him, and the two gripped hands and walked home together across the salt grass, Michael telling in low, halting tones all that Buck had said. Sam kept hisface turned the other way, but once Michael got a view of it and he wassure there were tears on his cheeks. To think of Sam having tears foranything!

Arrived at the cottage Sam told him he thought that Mr. Endicott was takinghis afternoon nap upstairs, and that Miss Endicott had gone to ride with"some kind of a fancy woman in a auto" who had called to see her. 

Being very weary and yet unwilling to run the risk of waking Mr. Endicottby going upstairs, Michael asked Sam to bolt the dining-room door and giveorders that he should not be disturbed for an hour; then he lay down on theleather couch in the living-room. 

The windows were open all around and the sweet breath of the opening rosesstole in with the summer breeze, while the drone of bees and the pure notesof a song sparrow lulled him to sleep. 

CHAPTER XXIX

Michael had slept perhaps an hour when he was roused by the sound ofvoices, a sharp, hateful one with an unpleasant memory in it, and a sweet, dear one that went to his very soul. 

"Sit down here, Aunt Frances. There is no one about: Papa is asleep andMichael has not yet returned from a trip out West. You can talk withoutfear of being heard. "

"Michael, Michael!" sniffed the voice. "Well, that's what I came to talkto you about. I didn't want to say anything out there where the chauffeurcould hear; he is altogether too curious and might talk with the servantsabout it. I wouldn't have it get out for the world. Your mother would havebeen mortified to death about all this, and I can't see what your fatheris thinking about. He never did seem to have much sense where you wereconcerned--!"

"Aunt Frances!"

"Well, I can't help it. He doesn't. Now take this matter of your being downhere, and the very thought of you're calling that fellow Michael, --as if hewere a cousin or something! Why, it's simply disgusting! I hoped youwere going to stay out West until your father was well enough to go awaysomewhere with you; but now that you have come back I think you ought toleave here at once. People will begin to talk, and I don't like it. Why, the fellow will be presuming on it to be intimate with you--"'

Michael was suddenly roused to the fact that he was listening to aconversation not intended for his ears, and yet he had no way of gettingout of hearing without passing the door in the front of which the two womenwere seated. Both the dining-room, door and the stairs were on the otherside of the room from him and he would have to run the risk of being seen, by either or both of them if he attempted to cross to them. The windowswere screened by wire nailed over the whole length, so he could not hope toget successfully out of any of them. There was nothing for it but to liestill, and pretend to be asleep if they discovered him afterwards. It wasan embarrassing situation but it was none of his choosing. 

There was a slight stir outside, Starr had risen, and was standing with herback to the doorway. 

"Aunt Frances! What do you mean? Michael is our honored and respectedfriend, our protector--our--host. Think what he did for papa! Risked hislife!"

"Stuff and nonsense! Risked his life. He took the risk for perfectly goodreasons. He knew how to worm himself into the family again--"

"Aunt Frances! I will not hear you say such dreadful things. Michael is agentleman, well-educated, with the highest ideals and principles. If youknew how self-sacrificing and kind he is!"

"Kind, yes kind!" sniffed the aunt, "and what will you think about it whenhe asks you to marry him? Will you think he is kind to offer you a share inthe inheritance of a nobody--a charity--dependent--a child of the slums? Ifyou persist in your foolishness of staying here you will presently have allNew York gossiping about you, and then when you are in disgrace--I supposeyou will turn to me to help you out of it. "

"Stop!" cried Starr. "I will not listen to another word. What do you meanby disgrace? There could be no disgrace in marrying Michael. The girl whomarries him will be the happiest woman in the whole world. He is good andtrue and unselfish to the heart's core. There isn't the slightest danger ofhis ever asking me to marry him, Aunt Frances, because I am very sure heloves another girl and is engaged to marry her; and she is a nice girl too. But if it were different, if he were free and asked me to marry him I wouldfeel as proud and glad as if a prince of the highest realm had asked me toshare his throne with him. I would rather marry Michael than any man I evermet, and I don't care in the least whether he is a child of the slums or achild of a king. I know what he is, and he is a prince among men. "

"Oh, really! Has it come to this? Then you are in love with him already andmy warning comes too late, does it? Answer me! Do you fancy yourself inlove with him. "

"Aunt Frances, you have no right to ask me that question, " said Starrsteadily, her cheeks very red and her eyes very bright. 

Michael was sitting bolt upright on the couch now, utterly forgetful ofthe dishonor of eavesdropping, fairly holding his breath to listen andstraining his ears that he might lose no slightest word. He was devouringthe dear, straight, little form in the doorway with his eyes, and her everyword fell on his tired heart like raindrops in a thirsty land, making theflowers of hope spring forth and burst into lovely bloom. 

"Well, I do ask it!" snapped the aunt hatefully. "Come, answer me, do youlove him?"

"That, Aunt Frances, I shall never answer to anybody but Michael. I mustrefuse to hear another word on this subject. "

"Oh, very well, good-bye. I'll leave you to your silly fate, but don'texpect me to help you out of trouble if you get into it. I've warned youand I wash my hands of you, " and the angry woman flouted out to her waitingcar, but the girl stood still in the doorway and said with dignity:

"Good afternoon, Aunt Frances. I shall never ask your help in any way. "

Starr watched the car out of sight, great tears welling into her eyes androlling down her cheeks. Michael sat breathless on the couch and tried tothink what he ought to do; while his very being was rippling with the joyof the words she had spoken. 

Then she turned and saw him, and he stood up and held out his arms. 

"Starr, my little Starr! My darling! Did you mean all you said? Would youreally marry me? I've loved you always, Starr, since first I saw you a tinylittle child; I've loved your soft baby kisses and those others you gave melater when you were a little girl and I an awkward boy. You never knew howdear they were, nor how I used to go to sleep at night dreaming over andover again, those kisses on my face. Oh, Starr! answer me? Did you mean itall? And could you ever love me? You said you would answer that question tono one else but me. Will you answer it now, darling?"

For answer she came and stood within his arms, her eyes down-drooped, herface all tears and smiles, and he folded her within his strong clasp andstooping, whispered softly:

"Starr, little darling--my life--my love--my--_wife_!"

And then he laid his lips against hers and held her close. 

 * * * * *

Three weeks later when the roses were all aburst of bloom over the porch atRose Cottage and June was everywhere with her richness and perfection ofbeauty, Starr and Michael were married on the piazza under an arch ofroses; and a favored few of society's cream motored down to Old Orchard towitness the ceremony. In spite of all her disagreeable predictions and uglythreats Aunt Frances was among them, smiling and dominating. 

"Yes, so sensible of her not to make a fuss with her wedding just now, whenher father is getting his strength back again. Of course she could havecome to my house and been married. I begged her to--naturally she shrankfrom another wedding in connection with the old home you know--but herfather seemed to dread coming into town and so I advised her to go aheadand be married here. Isn't it a charming place? So rustic you know, andquite simple and artistic too in its way. Michael has done it all, plannedthe house and everything, of course with Starr's help. You know it's quitea large estate, belonged to Michael's great grandfather once, severalhundred acres, and he has used part of it for charitable purposes; has afarm school or something for poor slum people, and is really teaching themto be quite decent. I'm sure I hope they'll be duly grateful. See thoseroses? Aren't they perfectly _dear_?"

It was so she chattered to those in the car with her all the way down tothe farm; and to see her going about among the guests and smiling andposing to Michael when he happened to come near her, you would have thoughtthe match all of her making, and never have dreamed that it was onlybecause Michael's great forgiving heart had said: "Oh, forgive her and askher down. She is your mother's sister, you know, and you'll be glad you didit afterwards. Never mind what she says. She can't help her notions. It washer unfortunate upbringing, and she's as much to be pitied as I for my slumeducation. "

The pretty ceremony under the roses was over, and Starr had gone upstairsto change the simple embroidered muslin for her travelling frock and motorcoat, for Michael and Starr were to take their honeymoon in their own newcar, a wedding gift from their father; and Endicott himself was to go tohis sister's by rail in the company of Will French, to stay during theirabsence and be picked up by them on their homeward route. 

Michael stood among his friends on the piazza giving last directions toFrench who was to look after his law business also during his absence, and who was eager to tell his friend how he and Hester had planned to bemarried early in the fall and were to go to housekeeping in a five-roomedflat that might have been a palace from the light in Will's eyes. Hesterwas talking with Lizzie who had edged near the porch with her prettyboy hiding shyly behind her, but the smile that Hester threw in Will'sdirection now and then showed she well knew what was his subject ofconversation. 

All the little colony had been gathered in the orchard in front of the rosearch, to watch the wedding ceremony, and many of them still lingered thereto see the departure of the beloved bride and groom. Aunt Frances levelledher lorgnette at them with all the airs of her departed sister, andexclaimed "Aren't they picturesque? It's quite like the old country to haveso many servants and retainers gathered about adoring, now isn't it!" And ayoung and eager debutante who was a distant cousin of Starr's. Replied:

"I think it's perfectly peachy, Aunt Frances. "

Suddenly in one of Will's eager perorations about the flat and its outlookMichael noticed the shy, eager look of Sam's face as he waited hungrily fornotice. 

"Excuse me, Will, I must see Sam a minute, " said Michael hurrying over towhere the man stood. 

"Say, Mikky, " said Sam shyly, grasping Michael's hand convulsively, "me an'Lizzie sort o' made it up as how we'd get tied, an' we thought we'd do itnow whiles everybody's at it, an' things is all fixed Lizzie she wanted meto ask you ef you 'sposed _she'd_ mind, ef we'uns stood thur on the verandywhur yous did, arter you was gone?" Sam looked at him anxiously as thoughhe had asked the half of Michael's kingdom and scarcely expected to get it, but Michael's face was filled with glory as he clasped the small hard handof his comrade and gripped it with his mighty hearty grip. 

"Mind! She'd be delighted, Sam! Go ahead. I'm sorry we didn't know itbefore. We'd have liked to give you a present, but I'll send you the deedof the little white cottage at the head of the lane, the one that lookstoward the river and the sunset, you know. Will you two like to livethere?"

Sam's eyes grew large with happiness, and a mist came over them as he heldtight to the great hand that enclosed his own, and choked and tried toanswer. 

Amid a shower of roses and cheers Michael and Starr rode into the sweetJune afternoon, alone together at last. And when they had gone beyond thelittle town, and were on a stretch of quiet woodsy road, Michael stoppedthe car and took his bride into his arms. 

"Dear, " he said as he tenderly kissed her, "I've just been realizing whatmight have happened if Buck hadn't seen you in time and taken the shothimself that I might have you, my life, my dear, precious wife!"

Then Starr looked up with her eyes all dewy with tears and said, "Michael, we must try to save a lot of others for his sake. " And Michael smiled andpressed his lips to hers again, with deep, sweet understanding. 

Then, when they were riding along again Michael told her of what Sam hadasked, and how another wedding was to follow theirs. 

"Oh, Michael!" said Starr, all eagerness at once, "Why didn't you tell mesooner! I would have liked to stay and see them married. Couldn't we turnaround now and get there in time if you put on high speed?"

"We'll try, " said Michael reversing the car; and in an instant more it wasshooting back to Old Orchard, arriving on the scene just as Sam and Lizziewere shyly taking their place, hand in hand, under the roses, in as nearimitation of Michael and Starr as their unaccustomedness could compass. 

It was Jim who discovered the car coming up the orchard lane. 

"For de lub o' Mike!" he exclaimed aloud. "Ef here don't come Mikkyhisse'f, and _her_! Hold up dar, Mister preacher. Don't tie de knot tilldey gits here!"

And a cheer arose loud and long and echoed through the trees and over theriver to the sea. Three cheers for the love of Michael!

Sam and Lizzie bloomed forth with smiles, and the ceremony went forwardwith, alacrity now that the real audience was present. 

An hour later, having done their part to make the wedding festivities asjoyous as their own had been, Michael and Starr started out again into thewaning day, a light on their faces and joy in their hearts. 

Starr, her heart very full, laid her hand upon Michael's and said withshining eyes:

"Michael, do you know, I found a name for you. Listen: 'And at that timeshall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children ofthy people: and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one thatshall be found written in the book. ' Michael, you are _my prince_!"

And Michael as he stooped and kissed her, murmured, "My Starr. "