"No, I did not," answered Theodore, shortly, and turned quickly away. In spite of himself, a bitter feeling of almost rebellion possessed him. "He is able to be carried home," he muttered, "while his partner in trouble must toss in delirium--and _he_ was much the most to blame this time, I have no doubt!" No sooner had these sullen thoughts been uttered than he was startled at them, and ashamed of himself. He struggled to regain a right feeling toward the more fortunate man, and punished himself by determining to go at once to Mr. Phillips' residence, and inquire in person for his son, instead of returning to the store and sending a message, as he had at first intended. A flushed-faced, swollen-eyed servant answered his ring, and to his inquiry as to how Mr. Phillips was, answered: "Well, sir, he's doing the best he can." "Can I see him?" asked Theodore, wondering at the strangeness of the answer. "I guess so--or I'll see. Come in!" and she flung open the parlor door and left him. In a few minutes the elder Mr. Phillips entered. He recognized Theodore at once, though the two had met but once in their lives. The look of unreconciled pain on his face settled into a sterner form as he encountered Theodore, and he spoke with a marked sternness--"Young man! were you with my son last night? Are you one of those who helped lead him astray?" "I thank God I am not!" answered Theodore, fervently, yet in gentle tone. Even though he believed that the young man's father had been one of the most potent influences in the ruin of his son, yet the present was no time to have it appear. "I called to see if I could in any way serve you, and to know if I might see your son."