e, but I've
come to stay. And I'm going to make good if toil, and hard work, and
conscientious pains count for anything. I was climbing fast back--where
I came from, but it became best for me to leave. Not because I had to.
There's nothing back there I'm ashamed of. You're the first person here
who's been kind to me, and I did nothing to deserve it. I shall remember
it always."

He pressed the soft, flabby hand which he held, and withdrew his arm.

Dillard's face reddened at this speech. He made a few awkward movements
with his hands, and then spoke, in an abashed way.

"I've done nothin', doctor, to make a fuss about, but I'll be mighty
glad to be your friend. I imagine a fellow with the stuff in him that
you are made of would be worth having for a friend."

He drew out his watch and looked at it, rising quickly as he noted the
time.

"It's getting late. By the time I get breakfast and reach the bank it'll
be close onto nine. I'm glad you're lookin' so well. Don't try to get up
today. I'll call in at noon for a minute. Good-bye."

He leaned over the bed and pressed Glenning's hand again, then took his
hat and withdrew, closing the door gently behind him.

When his fat friend had departed, Glenning mechanically sent his eyes
around the room. It contained, besides the bed upon which he lay, the
customary washstand, dresser, table and two chairs. His clothes lay upon
one of these chairs, and he looked in a rather disinterested way at the
scorched and burned garments, now rendered totally useless. Then his
mind flew back to those awful moments in the stall with The Prince, and
he shut his eyes and groaned audibly. The door to his room opened, and
he heard the clinking of dishes. He looked, and saw a waiter bearing a
tray to the table in the center of his room. The young fellow deposited
his burden, then glanced towards the bed with respectful eyes, as some
might gaze upon a hero overthrown.

"Here's your breakfast, sir. I'll bring it closer if you want me to. Mr.
Dillard told us you were awake and feeling pretty well, so Mr. Travers
thought you might be hungry."

"Thank you," returned Glenning. "I'll be getting up presently. You
needn't wait."

The boy moved reluctantly to the door. He had his hand on the knob, then
turned.

"I didn't go to the burnin' o' ol' man Dudley's barn," he vouchsafed, in
a rather high, scared voice, "but if I'd knowed what you's goin' to do I
wouldn't 'a' missed seein' you pull that