lipped slowly by. Philippa wrote that the garden was gay
with spring crocuses and snowdrops; then that Ridgeville had never
been such a bower of roses as it was that June. But to Alec the
months were marked only by his little winnings and little losings.

There came a time in the early autumn when Alec crept up the creaking
stairs to his room, haggard and pale in the gray light of the
breaking dawn. He had been out all night and lost not only all the
money he had put away in the bank, the savings of seven endless
months, but he was in debt for a greater sum than all his next
month's salary would amount to.

Heavy-eyed and dizzy from the long hours spent in the close little
gambling den, reeking with stifling tobacco smoke, Alec dragged
himself to his room. After he had closed the door, he stood leaning
with his back against it for a moment. He was facing two pictures
that gazed at him from the mantel: One was the patient, wistful face
of his Aunt Eunice; the other was Philippa's, looking straight out at
him with such honest, sincere eyes, such eager questioning, that he
could not meet their clear gaze. He strode across the room and turned
both faces to the wall. Then, without undressing, he threw himself on
the bed with a groan.

He was late reaching the factory that morning, for he fell asleep at
once into a sleep of exhaustion, so deep that the usual sounds did
not arouse him. As it was his first offence, the foreman passed it by
in silence; but, faint from lack of food (there had been no time for
breakfast), worn by the excitement and high nervous tension of the
night before, he was in no condition to do his work. He made one
mistake after another, until, made more nervous by repeated accidents
both to the material and machinery he was handling, he made a blunder
too serious to pass without a report to the manager. It involved the
loss of considerable money to the company.

"You'll be lucky if that mistake doesn't give you your walking
papers," said the foreman. "You'll hear from it at the end of the
month."

If there had been only himself to consider, Alec would have welcomed
his dismissal, but there was Flip and his Aunt Eunice. How they
believed in him! How proud they were of him! Not for worlds would he
have them know how far he had fallen short of their ideal of him. So
for their sakes he waited in feverish anxiety to know the result.

CHAPTER VI.

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. A few lumps of