te had already
seen. He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted on those
floating banners which bore in flaming letters the inscriptions:

"The father of David Dunne died in state prison!"

"His mother was a washerwoman!"

CHAPTER VI

The others were stricken into shocked silence which they were too
stunned for the moment to break. It was Fletcher who recovered first,
but then Fletcher was the only one present who did not know that the
words had struck home.

"We mustn't wait another moment, David," he said emphatically, "to get
out sweeping denials and--"

"We can't," said David wearily. "It is true."

"Oh," responded Fletcher lamely.

There was another silence. Something in David's voice and manner had
made the silence still more constrained.

"I'll go down and smash their banners!" muttered Joe, who had not
dared to look in David's direction.

Mr. Winthrop restrained him.

"The matter will take care of itself," he counseled.

It is mercifully granted that the intensity of present suffering is
not realized. Only in looking back comes the pang, and the wonder at
the seemingly passive endurance.

Again David's memory was bridging the past to unveil that vivid
picture of the patient-eyed woman bending over the tub, and the pity
for her was hurting him more than the cruel banner which was flaunting
the fact before a jeering, applauding crowd.

Mrs. Winthrop gave him a covert glance. She had great pride in her
lineage, and her well-laid plans for her daughter's future did not
include David Dunne in their scope, but she was ever responsive to
distress.

Before the look in his eyes every sensation save that of sympathy left
her, and she went to him as she would have gone to a child of her own
that had been hurt.

"David," she said tenderly, laying her hand on his arm, "any woman in
the world might be glad to take in washing to bring up a boy to be
such a man as you are!"

Deeply moved and surprised, he looked into her brimming eyes and met
there the look he had sometimes seen in the eyes of his mother, of
M'ri, and once in the eyes of Janey. Moved by an irresistible impulse,
he stooped and kissed her.

The situation was relieved of its tenseness.

"I think, Joe," said David, speaking collectedly, "we had better go to
headquarters. Knowles will be looking for me."

"Sure," assented Joe, eager to get into action.

"Carey," said David in a low voice, as he was leaving.

As she