Susie’s eyes suddenly fell.
“No, I’ve given Alfred orders to pack. We must move to-morrow.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” cried the girl. “You can pay us when you are able. Your father saved us from want during the war. We owe him a debt that can’t be paid. He is no trouble, and Alfred works the garden. Mother loves Billy as if he were my brother. And we are honoured in having you in our home.”
The tender gray eyes were lowered again.
John looked at her curiously, bowed and kissed her hand.
“Thanks, Miss Susie! I appreciate, more than I can tell, your coming alone after me here to-night—a very rash and daring thing for a girl to do in these troublesome times. Such things make a fellow ashamed that he ever took a drink, make him feel that life is always worth the fight—and I’m going to make it to-night—and I’m going to win!”
“Then don’t give old Butler the chance to ruin you,” pleaded the gentle voice.
“I won’t, my little girl, I won’t—don’t worry! I’ll play my trump card—I’ve got it here.”
He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a letter which he crushed nervously in his slender but powerful hand, drawing his tall figure suddenly erect.
The girl saw that her pleadings were in vain, and said helplessly: