cold too."

"It'll be all right in a day or two, I hope," said Epstein. "I must be
going to Turnpike's. I want them to give this to Dolly to-morrow. You
know I had a baby girl one time"--he proceeded quite firmly--"she--she
died--and Rachel, her mother, followed--shortly. We called her
Dolly--after Flo Dearmore's mother, who was very good to us"--here he
looked smilingly at Tommy, who had blushed at the mention of Flo's
name--"my little girl had beautiful brown eyes--just like Dolly
Turnpike's."

He left them then. Whimple lingered a little while and finally blurted
out--"I never knew that about Epstein."

"I've heard little bits of it," said Tommy, whose eyes were still moist.
"Say, but he's a wonder though." Whimple agreed. Twice he made as
though to go, and after the second attempt he asked bluntly, "Does
William come here every morning yet?"

"Yes," answered Tommy.

"Well, I--that is----" he did not finish the sentence, and did not know
how he could, but Tommy saved him. "That's all right," he said, "I'll
send him over right after his lesson to-morrow. Whimple, you know what
the good book says: it's more blessed to take a man on again than to
refuse to give him another chance."

"Well, I don't just remember that," said Whimple, "but I do know that
I've had sixty applicants in response to my advertisement for an office
boy, and of all the----"

"I know--I know," broke in Tommy, "there's mighty few William Adolphus
Turnpikes in this world, and he'll be just as glad to get back as you
will be to have him."

"Confound him," said Whimple, but he laughed as he said it.

"Sure, but that'll be all right so long as the two of you get together
again."

When Whimple reached the office the next morning he found William there.
The lad's face was shining with pleasure. "I'm sorry about that dog
business, Mister Whimple," he said, "and I'll try to be good."

"All right, William," said Whimple happily, "let it go at that." But to
the surprised and disgruntled Lucien Torrance, William said darkly,
"Well, what between you and the bunch that was after my job, I guess
Mister Whimple was nearly crazy. It's more'n one man can stand for
keeping you straight; it beats me how your own boss can put up with it."

CHAPTER XVI

The provincial political pot, which had been simmering all through the
early spring, boiled over in July of that year. The Legislature was
dissolved with all the solemn formalities at