She led the way into the room where the boy lay in a low bed near a larger one. His crutches lay beside it. “Win sleeps in our room yet. He can take care of himself quite well. But when he wakes in the night he likes to reach out and touch his father's hand.” The child looked mortified. “I wish I could reach out and touch _my_ father's hand when I wake in the night,” said Annie. The cloud left the boy's face. “I can't remember whether I said my prayers, mother, I've been thinking so.” “Well, say them over again, to me.” The men's voices sounded in the hall below, and the ladies found them there. Dr. Morrell had his hat in his hand. “Look here, Annie,” said Putney, “_I_ expected to walk home with you, but Doc Morrell says he's going to cut me out. It looks like a put-up job. I don't know whether you're in it or not, but there's no doubt about Morrell.” Mrs. Putney gave a sort of gasp, and then they all shouted with laughter, and Annie and the doctor went out into the night. In the imperfect light which the electrics of the main street flung afar into the little avenue where Putney lived, and the moon sent through the sidewalk trees, they struck against each other as they walked, and the doctor said, “Hadn't you better take my arm, Miss Kilburn, till we get used to the dark?” “Yes, I think I had, decidedly,” she answered; and she hurried to add: “Dr. Morrell, there is something I want to ask you. You're their physician, aren't you?” “The Putneys? Yes.” “Well, then, you can tell me--” “Oh no, I can't, if you ask me as their physician,” he interrupted. “Well, then, as their friend. Mrs. Putney said something to me that makes me very unhappy. I thought Mr. Putney was out of all danger of his--trouble. Hasn't he perfectly reformed? Does he ever--” She stopped, and Dr. Morrell did not answer at once. Then he said seriously: “It's a continual fight with a man of Putney's temperament, and sometimes he gets beaten. Yes, I guess you'd better know it.” “Poor Ellen!” “They don't allow themselves to be discouraged. As soon as he's on his feet they begin the fight again. But of course it prevents his success in his profession, and he'll always be a second-rate country lawyer.” “Poor Ralph! And so brilliant as he is! He could be anything.” “We must be glad if he can be something, as it is.” “Yes, and how happy they seem together, all three of them! That child worships his father; and how tender Ralph is of him! How good he is to his wife; and how proud she is of him! And that awful shadow over them all the time! I don't see how they live!” The doctor was silent for a moment, and finally said: “They have the peace that seems to come to people from the presence of a common peril, and they have the comfort of people who never blink the facts.” “I think Ralph is terrible. I wish he'd let other people blink the facts a little.”