"Ah!" said the manager sadly, "I have thought sometimes, that if we'd had a child, Elaine and I, it would have made it easier. I might have done it for the child's sake." "Suppose that God did not dare to risk the child in your hands," said Reggie solemnly, "suppose, if He sent a child, then you had not the strength to give up the drink?" And as the words fell from Reggie's lips there came a sound from the outer office that made both the men start. "Father!" said a little treble voice which rang through the Bank. "Father! father! let me do it." The manager raised himself so that he could see over the frosted glass in the door which gave on to the front premises, but Reggie had no need to look. He recognised the clear child's voice. He seemed to see little Cyril Mackenzie's round, rosy face lifted confidingly to his father's as he had seen it only last night. And Mr. Gray saw the bright little lad, and he sat down again in his seat with a groan, and hid his face in his hands. "Suppose--" he said, "suppose I haven't the strength to give it up _now_." "It was the help of Jesus Christ, our Saviour, that I meant. He will give you the strength if you will let Him, and I will help you all I can, if you will let me," answered Reggie earnestly. CHAPTER XIV. AN UNWELCOME GUEST. Denys had undertaken, at the earnest request of the woman at the Landslip Cottage, to take care of Harry as far as to Mixham Junction, where his uncle would meet him. She was on her way to the Landslip cottage to make sure that the arrangements for meeting Harry at the station the following day were all complete, a duty which had obliged her to give up a two hours' drive with Mrs. Henchman, Audrey and Gertrude, who had all gone with a friend of Mrs. Henchman's. Denys had, however, scarcely entered the Landslip road when she encountered little Harry and his kind friend, and being thus saved more than an hour's walk, she arrived back at Mrs. Henchman's house much sooner than she had expected. Mary opened the door for her, and Denys was struck by her woebegone, weary face. For a moment Denys hesitated, thinking of that accusation of interference, thinking of Mary's constant ungraciousness to her, but she pushed the remembrance aside and said kindly, "Is anything the matter, Mary? You look so sad." Tears sprang into Mary's eyes at the unexpected interest. "It's my head, Miss," she said, "one of my bad headaches, and its so unfortunate to-day, because my brother is just coming home for this one evening, and Mrs. Henchman was going to let me go special, and by after tea I sha'n't be able to hold my head up, and I've not seen him for two years, and he's my favourite." "Perhaps you can see him to-morrow," suggested Denys. "No, Miss; he's a gentleman's servant, he is, and he's always travelling about. It was just this one chance, and now I've missed it."