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Why had he left his boy to be reared by a man who hated the boy's father? It was a strange thing to do, and it must be that his father was dead. At this time Richard was filled with ambitions, fired by his early companionship with Bertrand Ballard, and thought he would go to France and become an artist; to France, the Mecca of Bertrand's dreams he desired of all things to go there for study.

One priest, indeed, had gone so far as to tell him that he was on dangerous ground ... and the one and single man who up to the present had seemed on his side, was the very man, Mr. Ballard, then a layman, whom he had met by chance in London, and who had been the occasion of first suggesting any such idea.

"Now then, you see how foolish and naughty it was the way you behaved about having the doctor this morning. Look how much better you are already!" "Yes'm, I love Dr. Ballard." "You well may. He's done well by you." Mrs. Forbes took the tray. "Now do you feel like going to sleep again? The doctor won't come till about six o'clock.

"Why, Dr. Ballard," in gentle reproach, "Christ is the Truth of God. Isn't He here now, healing us and helping us just the same as ever? Didn't He say He would be? You will see how much better I shall be to-night." Dr. Ballard met the heavy eyes with his own kind, clear ones.

I shall be the framemaker for Roger's magnum opus. And not over my dead body shall you wear after December twelfth a tartan-cravat." As you will observe. Jack Ballard exactly defined sophistication, root and branch. But his sophistries were always colorful and ornamental and of course Jerry laughed. "I'll take your word for it, Uncle Jack," he said. "But you know I rather like color."

"No, I've read that lots of times long ago. I'm reading 'The Merry Wives of Windsor' now." "Mary, Mary, do you hear this? I think it's time our Betty had a little supervision in her reading." Mary Ballard came to the door from the tea table where she had been arranging her little set of delicate china, her one rare treasure and inheritance.

"The mare had received mental treatments meanwhile," he added gravely. Dr. Ballard smiled, and drawing Jewel to him, lifted her upon his knee. "Look here," he said, "can't you let anything around here be sick in peace? We doctors shall have to form a union and manage to get you boycotted."

The sound of shouts and the trampling of feet could be heard, and she came out into the restaurant just in time to photograph upon her brain a scene whose significance was at once apparent. On a chair between his two prisoners, and confronting Ballard at the head of a crowd of frenzied villains, stood the ranger, a gleaming weapon in his hand, a look of resolution on his face.

She was promised to become his wife, but through all these years she protects by her silence the murderer of her lover. Ponder on this thought, Bertrand Ballard, and pray God you may have the strength to be just." Bertrand walked homeward with bowed head. It was Saturday.

Indeed, I think we all agree that you are carrying out with rare judgment the spirit if not the actual letter of John Benham's wishes. Jerry is a wonderful boy. But in our opinion the time has come when his mind should be slowly shaped to grasp the essentials of the great career that awaits him." "I can be of no assistance to you, Mr. Ballard," I said dryly.