stole? This may come out as your
slumming did, you know."

But Theodora started out, the next morning, the tracts in her hand and
zeal in her heart. At the very first saloon, she was doomed to
disillusion.

"It is a wicked life," she said firmly; "and you ought to be ashamed."

For a wonder, the man knew neither Dr. McAlister nor his daughter, and
he was not moved to awe by this child.

"Do you think it is any of your business, my fine lady?" he demanded
sharply.

Theodora quailed.

"N-n-no-o-o-o; I don't," she said faintly, and fled from the door into
the arms of her father, who chanced to be passing by.

"Theodora!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, sir." She hung her head guiltily, for she instinctively felt his
disapproval.

"What are you doing here, in such a place?" he asked more sternly than
he was wont to speak.

"I'm--I'm--I'm--" she faltered.

He held out his hand for the tracts. She gave them up reluctantly, and
she saw him frown as he read their lurid headings. For a moment he
looked perplexed; then he said quietly,--

"Theodora, I wish you to go home at once, and to say nothing of this to
anyone. To-night, after supper, come to the office. I want to talk this
over with you."

"Yes, papa."

Her lip quivered, and he relaxed a little of his sternness.

"I know you didn't mean to do wrong, my dear. I am not going to scold
you; but there are a good many things I want to say to you,--things we
can't say here. That is all."

To Theodora's mind, the day dragged perceptibly. She was conscious of
her father's disapproval, conscious that, in her girlish impulsiveness,
she had gone where she had no business to go. It was a relief when
supper was over, and she followed her father into his office.

He pulled out a great easy-chair and sat down.

"Come here, my girlie, and cuddle in beside me, as you used to do," he
said, with an inviting gesture. "Now tell me all about it."

Theodora poured forth her tale in an incoherent tide. Her father,
listening and stroking the brown head, smiled a little, from time to
time. When she had finished,--

"What is temperance, Teddy?" he asked abruptly.

"Not to drink rum," she answered, with glib promptness.

He smiled again.

"That is only a tiny little part of it, my girl."

"Of course. I mean whiskey, too, and beer, and--and--"

"Never mind the rest of them now. It's a good long list, and the worst
of the drinking isn't always done in the saloons."

"Where is i