Presently Sue hauled out of her pocket a tiny rag doll which she carried for casual use. It came handy in moments of loneliness and despair outside the house. She toyed with its garments, humming in a motherly fashion. It was nearly dark when they saw their father staggering homeward according to his habit. They knew not yet the meaning of that wavering walk. "There he comes!" said Socky, as they both ran to meet him. "He can't carry us to-night. He's awful tired." They thought him "tired." They kissed him and took his hands in theirs, and led him into the house. Stern and silent he sat down beside them at the supper-table. The children were also silent and sober-faced from intuitive sympathy. They could not yet introduce the topic which weighed upon them. Socky looked at his father. For the first time he noted that his clothes were shabby; he knew that a few days before his father had lost his watch. The boy stole away from the table, and went to his little trunk and brought the sacred thing which his teacher had given him Christmas Day--a cheap watch that told time with a noisy and inspiring tick. He laid it down by his father's plate. "There," said he, "I'm going to let you wear my watch." It was one of those deep thrusts which only the hand of innocence can administer. Richard Gordon took the watch in his hand and sat a moment looking down. The boy manfully resumed his chair. "It don't look very well for you to be going around without a watch," he remarked, taking up his piece of bread and butter. His father put the watch in his pocket. "You can let me wear it Sundays," the boy added. "You won't need it Sundays." A smile overspread the man's face. The children, quick to see their opportunity, approached him on either side. Sue put her arms around the neck of her father and kissed him. "Tell us a story about Uncle Silas," she pleaded. "Uncle Silas!" he exclaimed. "We're all going to see him in a few days." The children were mute with surprise. Sue's little doll dropped from her hands to the floor. Her face changed color and she turned quickly, with a loud cry, and drummed on the table so that the dishes rattled. Socky leaned over the back of a chair and shook his head, and gave his feet a fling and then recovered his dignity. "Now don't get excited," remarked their father. They ran out of the room, and stood laughing and whispering together for a moment. Then they rushed back. "When are we going?" the boy inquired. "In a day or two," said Gordon, who still sat drinking his tea. Sue ran to tell Aunt Marie, the housekeeper, and Socky sat in his little rocking-chair for a moment of sober thought. "Look here, old chap," said Gordon, who was wont to apply the terms of mature good-fellowship to his little son. Socky came and stood by the side of his father. "You an' I have been friends for some time, haven't we?" was the strange and half-maudlin query which Gordon put to his son. The boy smiled and came nearer.