boy's mouth, closer and closer.

The doctor sank back in his chair. His shrewd eyes darted from boy to
father, then to the mother.

"Do not be alarmed," he said to Mrs. Leighton; "the lad is pheesically
sound. He will awake anon." The doctor arose, and stretched his arms.
"Eh, but I've had a hard day. Will ye be sae gude as to give me a glass
of wine, Mistress Leighton?"

Ann started as though from a trance.

"Wine, Doctor?" she stammered. "I'm sorry. We have no wine in the
house."

"Not even a drop of whisky?"

Ann shook her head.

"Nae whisky in the medicine-chest, nae cooking sherry in the pantry?
Weel, weel, I must be gaeing." And without a look at Ann's rising color
or the Reverend Orme's twitching face the doctor was gone.

The Reverend Orme fixed his eyes upon his wife.

"When the boy awakes," he said, "not a word to him. Send him to my
study." Ann nodded. As the door closed, she fell upon her knees beside
the bed.

An hour later the study door opened. Shenton entered. His father was