Most of the houses in the neighbourhood were deserted, but lights shone from the Craighill library as Wayne entered the grounds. He had his latch-key, but he was not sure that he had still the right to use it. He had come reluctantly, and the sight of the house did not intensify his zeal for an interview with his father. Near the hedge that marked one of the Craighill boundaries stood a rustic summer house. It had been a favourite retreat of Wayne’s mother, and as he debated afresh whether he should see his father he left the path and walked toward it. His step on the grass was noiseless. As he stood in the low doorway of the little house Mrs. Craighill sprang up from the corner where she had been idling. “Oh, Wayne, have you come back?” “I’m back unexpectedly, and only for the night. How are you--how’s father?” He groped for chairs in the dark. “Your father’s not himself at all. How could he ever be after _that_?” “Let us not talk of it. I didn’t come for that.” “But--you know what happened?” Her voice fell to a whisper. “He let the doctors pass on the old man’s death--and said nothing. They took his word for it. And of course what you offered to do--he didn’t take advantage of that.” “He didn’t have to; the doctors’ verdict made it unnecessary. And so we’ll never know just what would have happened. We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Well, how are things going?” “Your father’s business affairs have troubled him. He never talks to me of them, but I know he worries. Mr. Walsh has been helping him, and he has been very kind to me, too--in many ways. Since he began to help your father he has come to the house a good deal. He thinks your father will pull out in time; he’s trying to get the dead horses out of the stable--that’s what he calls the poor investments.” “Tom can straighten father out if anybody can. Has father spoken of me since that night?” “No; not once.” “Hasn’t mentioned me at all?” “I’m sorry, but he hasn’t, Wayne.” “Where’s Fanny?” “She’s at York Harbour. She was terribly cut up over your going away; but Mr. Walsh knew where you were all the time, and what you were doing. So he told me and I told her. Your man Joe kept Mr. Walsh posted.” “He did, did he?” and Wayne laughed. “I’ve been at work, Addie. I’ve been driving mules up there in the anthracite country to try to get the general cussedness out of my system. I haven’t tasted a drop of anything for so long that I’ve forgotten the names of the drinks I used to lap up so abundantly. I saw a trayful of cocktails go by me in the club to-night, and the sight of them tickled my throat for a minute, but I poured a gallon of ice water into the serpent and was all right. As soon as I’m dead sure I’ve got a grip on myself I’m coming back to go into the mercantile company with Walsh.”