"It's doing no good. I hear of unlimited drinks at Larrigie day after
day for all who choose to ask. Many of our young fellows are getting
into the habit of dropping in there of nights and listening to the
man's stories of life 't'other side.' He seems capable of standing a
good deal of liquor himself, as he is never really overcome--only more
coarse and noisy, the more he takes. I have had complaints from
several of the fathers of families about the harm he is doing."

"That's rather bad!" was my answer. "But what about the Logans? I
hear that he means to take them off with him, and he doesn't appear to
be a desirable guardian for those children, by all accounts."

"It is that I'm most anxious about," said Val.

And thereupon he became communicative. Things were really worse than I
had thought. Gowan, it is true, still came to Mass, but he was fond of
boasting to his boon companions that they had got beyond "all that
nonsense in the States!" He had certainly, on his own showing, ceased
to be a practical Catholic for years, and it was probable that his
attendance at Mass and contribution of half a sovereign to the
offertory every Sunday was merely the result of a desire to stand well
in the estimation of the more staid members of the community, and might
be classed with the free drinks and other signs of friendliness to the
district. The character of the man rendered Val naturally anxious
about the future of Christian Logan and her children, if they were to
depend upon him for support in a strange land among strangers.

"The one redeeming feature in his character," summed up Val, "is his
genuine affection for the children. His wife died about two years ago,
it seems, and he is too old to marry again. So he appears to have