e herself believe that she and hers were better, stronger
than others, and now----

Mary was magnificent in her abandon and despair. Her words flowed freely,
her eyes flashed.

[Illustration: "'And now,' she cried, 'I'll keep my word to you. Here!
here! here!' The bottles went whirling and crashing on the rocks near the
roadway"]

"And now," she cried, "I'll keep my word to you. Here! here! here!"

The bottles went whirling and crashing on the rocks near the roadway.

"And you, Master Farwell, break open the keg and set the evil thing
free."

This Farwell proceeded to do with energy born of the hour. "And fetch out
all that remains!" shrieked Mary. "Here, you! McAlpin, I'll have none of
your help! Stay in your place; I'd not trust you inside when all's as
free as it is to-night. You have your lad--heaven help you! Keep him and
give him a clean chance. Nor you, Hornby! Out with you! It's a wicked
waste, is it? Better so than what I suffer. Your lads are above ground,
though out of your sight, Hornby, while mine----Here, Master, more! more!
let us water the earth."

The mad scene went on until the last drop of liquor was soaking into the
earth or dripping from the rocks.

White-faced and stern, Farwell carried out the mother's commands and
heeded not the muttered discontent or the approach of the horse and buggy
bearing Doctor Ledyard and Dick Travers. He was one in the drama now and
he played his part.

At the close a dull silence rested on the group, then Mary McAdam made
her appeal. Her voice broke; her hands trembled. She looked aged and
forlorn.

"And now," she said; "who'll come to the graveyard with me?"

She need not have asked. To the last child they followed mutely. They
were overcome by curiosity and fear, and the faces in the dull light of
the late day and early night looked ghostly.

As Farwell stood near Mary McAdam by the newly made graves, he raised
his eyes and found Ledyard's stern, yet amused, ones on his face. For
a moment he quivered, but with the courage of one facing an operation,
the outcome of which he could not know, he returned the look steadily.
He heard his own voice speaking words of helpfulness, words of
memory-haunted scenes. He told of Tom's courage and Sandy's sunshiny
nature. 'Twas youth, he pleaded for them, youth with its blindness and
lack of foresight. He recalled the last dread act as Jerry-Jo had
depicted it. The older brother risking all for the younger. The
smile-