o himself in the
elevator. "I guess the boy hasn't suffered much."

Allen had just risen from the window-seat after the painful revelry he
had indulged in since Patricia and Riley left him. The ringing of the
bell annoyed him. He was in no mood to see any one, and he resented the
intrusion. Then he threw the door open and saw his father standing
there. For a long moment he stood speechless with amazement, when his
face broke into a smile of welcome which touched the old man's heart.

"The pater!" he cried, and in another moment he had him grasped in his
arms with a grip which almost crushed him.

"What do you mean, you young reprobate," Sanford gasped, struggling to
escape. "I'm not a football dummy. Let me get my breath."

Allen dragged him into the room, unwilling to release him.

"The dear old pater," he cried again, depositing him in the great Morris
chair, and drawing back to regard him joyfully. "You've come just in
time. There are my trunks packed all ready to go to you. You said I'd
come back, and you were right. Oh, pater, I've made an awful mess of
things. You knew that I was no good, but I've had to find it out for
myself."

"Nothing of the sort," blubbered the old man, striving earnestly to
conceal the emotion which almost overcame him as a result of the boy's
welcome. "Any one who says you're no good will have to settle with me.
You're my son, that's what you are, and no Sanford was ever a failure
yet."

"Then you must keep me from being the first."

"Nothing of the sort;--why do you try to make me lose my temper? Gorham
says--"

"You've seen Mr. Gorham?" Allen interrupted, his heart leaping at the
sound of the name. "What did he say?"

"Never mind what he said," Sanford replied, remembering the injunction
laid upon him. Then he looked about him. "Gorham must have paid you a
good deal more than you were worth," he remarked significantly.

"He did," admitted Allen, and then divining what was in his father's
mind; "but not enough for this."

"You've run in debt, have you?" Allen noticed that the question did not
contain the usual sting. The old man would have rejoiced at this
opportunity to express his sympathy in the only way he knew how.

"Not yet. I sold my motor and some other things."

"Had to live like a gentleman, whatever your salary, didn't you?"

"I ought not to have done it," the boy admitted.

"Nothing of the sort," Sanford sputtered, again resorting to his
favorite phrase. "My