Samuel's heart was wrung. He went to the girl, and put his hand upon her arm. “Listen to me,” he said earnestly. “Let me try to help you.” “What can you do?” she demanded. “I'll go and see him. I'll plead with him--perhaps he'll listen to me.” “All right!” she cried. “Anything! Tell him I'll kill myself! I'll kill him and Dolly both, before I'll ever let her have him! Yes, I mean it! He swore to me he'd never leave me! And I believed him--I trusted him!” And Samuel clenched his hands with sudden resolution. “I'll see him about it,” he said. “I'll see him to-night.” And leaving the other still shaking with sobs, he turned and left the room. He stopped in the office to tell the man that he was going. But there was nobody there; and after hesitating a moment he went on. The storm was over and the moon was out, with scud of clouds flying past. Samuel strode back to “Fairview,” with his hands gripped tightly, and a blaze of resolution in his soul. He was just in time to see the automobile at the door, and the company taking their departure. They passed him, singing hilariously; and then he found himself confronting his young master. “Who's that?” exclaimed Bertie, startled. “It's me, sir,” said Samuel. “Oh! Samuel! What are you doing here?” “I've been with the young lady, sir.” “Oh! So that's what became of her!” “I took her to a hotel, sir.” “Humph!” said Bertie. “I'm obliged to you.” The piazza lights were turned up, and by them Samuel could see the other's face, flushed with drink, and his hair and clothing in disarray. He swayed slightly as he stood there. “Master Albert,” said Samuel very gravely, “May I have a few words with you?” “Sure,” said Bertie. He looked about him for a chair and sank into it. “What is it?” he asked. “It's the young lady, Master Albert.” “What about her?” “She's very much distressed, sir.” “I dare say. She'll get over it, Samuel.” “Master Albert,” exclaimed the boy, “you've not treated her fairly.” The other stared at him. “The devil!” he exclaimed. “You must not desert her, sir! It would be a terrible thing to have on your conscience. You have ruined and betrayed her.” “WHAT!” cried the other, and gazed at him in amazement. “Did she give you that kind of a jolly?” “She didn't go into particulars”--said the boy. “My dear fellow!” laughed Bertie. “Why, I've been the making of that girl. She was an eighteen-dollar-a-week chorus girl when I took her up.” “That might be, Master Albert. But if she was an honest girl--” “Nonsense, Samuel--forget it. She'd had three or four lovers before she ever laid eyes on me.” There was a pause, while the boy strove to get these facts into his mind. “Even so,” he said, “you can't desert her and let her starve, Master Albert.” “Oh, stuff!” said the other. “What put that into your head? I'll give her all the money she needs, if that's what's troubling her. Did she say that?” “N--no,” admitted Samuel disconcerted. “But, Master Albert, she loves you.”