Suddenly Rupert, who had been crying on the way down whenever he could do so unobserved, stepped forward from behind his mother, where he had been standing. “I struck him first, and I am the one to hang, not my brother.” His face which had been red when he began, paled suddenly, and his lip quivered a little; but his head was held straight and his eyes were steady and were filled with light. Mrs. Gray started to speak; but her voice trembled and failed her, and she could only hold out her hand to the boy. Middleton’s eyes softened. “No one will be hanged,” he said. Then added, gravely: “But you shouldn’t have struck him.” “He called my brother a puppy,” said the boy, defiantly, his eyes flashing, “and I’ll let no one do that—not you, nor anyone.” That night Thurston said to Middleton: “Gad, Larry, I said I ought to be a bishop, but you ought to be one—the way you preached to that boy, and I’d give a thousand dollars for him.” “I wish you were Captain,” growled Middleton. “He looked like a little game-cock, didn’t he?” When the prisoner arrived, about midnight, under his guard, everything was found ready for his reception, and his mother was detailed to nurse him, to which, probably, was due the failure of Leech’s and one other’s plan. CHAPTER XIII STEVE ALLEN LEARNS MISS THOMASIA’S SECRET AND FORSWEARS CARDS The roughness of the treatment Jacquelin had received at Leech’s hands caused his wound to break out afresh, and for a time he was seriously ill. But he had some compensations. Every girl in the neighborhood deemed him her especial favorite and charge. And from time to time, in the door walked, floated, or entered somehow, a goddess; and with her came heaven. Her entrance was always a miracle; she lit up the room, radiance took the place of gloom; the racked nerves found a sudden anodyne, and in the mere joy of her presence, Jacquelin forgot that he was crippled. She read to him, sat by him, soothed him, talked with him, sympathized with him, turned darkness into light, and pain, at least, into fortitude. How divinely tender her eyes could grow as some sudden paroxysm wrung his nerves, and brought a flush to his wan cheek! How solicitous was her voice! How soft her touch! And how much she knew! As much as Aunt Thomasia! How could a young girl have read so much! It stimulated Jacquelin, and he began to emulate her, as in old days, until reading became a habit. Under these influences Jacquelin actually began to get well.