Wingate relaxed his hold. How could he retain his fury against such
an enemy? It was too unequal. The lad was dangerous, he must be
punished, he--

Hallam read these unspoken thoughts.

"For my sake, Cousin Archibald, forgive him. It is he who has made me
able to save you this day, even though it was he who put you in such
peril. Months ago, Amy read in a paper how a lad was cured whose case
was just like mine. There was only will power on the cripple's part, and
the daily, sometimes hourly massage by one of those persons whose
physical magnetism, or whatever it is, was strong. 'Bony' was such a
person, and I just such a cripple. We began. For weeks I couldn't move
my legs without using my hands to help. Then one day I found, just after
the rubbing was over, that I could push one foot along the floor a tiny
way. That gave us both courage. He has been untiring. We were soon on
the road to what I believed, though with lots of set-backs, would be a
cure. Uncle Fred knew; that's why he wouldn't let Fayette be arrested or
punished for assaulting you. He took the blame himself, if the boy would
stick to me. Cleena knew, too--"

"And not us, father nor me!" exclaimed Amy, in a hurt tone.

"No; that was to be my blessed surprise for you two. It was to your own
suggestion, which I suppose you forgot soon after, with the newspaper
scrap you brought, that I owe the beginning. It was Cleena kept us at
it. She wouldn't let us give it up,--no, not if she had the whole crowd
under lock and key on a bread and water diet; eh, Fayette?"

The shamefaced fellow looked up, with a slight gleam in his eye, then
dropped his gaze again.

Hallam went on: "To-morrow, the First Day that mother loved, I was going
to make an experiment before you all--my surprise. I have practised in
private continually, and uncle, as well as Cleena, has urged me to tell
you before; but I kept it till the anniversary--you know."

"Ah," said Archibald Wingate, with a sudden recollection, "so it is. She
was my best friend, my best beloved. You are her children. All my hard
middle life seems to have slipped out of my memory, like a bad dream,
and I am back in our youth-time again, with Salome and Cuthbert and
Fred,--all gay and glad together. I wonder, I wonder what she would bid
me do to you, poor fellow," he finished, regarding the abject natural
with a pitying air.

"I know! Forgive him, else thy Salome and my mother were not one."

"Amy, thee is right. Co