Pliny shook his head.
"Can't. Some wretched nuisance and her daughter are to dine with us, and I promised mother I would be at home and on duty. I must go up directly, and there is a car coming. Theodore, don't think me an ungrateful fool. I know what I think of myself and of you, and if ever I am anything but a drunkard, why—Never mind, only may the God in whom you trust bless you forever." And this warm-hearted, whole-souled, hot-brained, sorely-tempted young man wrung his friend's hand with an almost convulsive grasp, and was gone.
Theodore looked after him wistfully. Winny came to the window while he still stood looking out; he turned to her suddenly.
"Winny, enter the lists with me, and help me fight rum and his allies, and save the young man."
"How?" said Winny, earnestly.
"Every way. Help me to meet him at every time, to save him from himself, and, worst and hardest of all, to save him from his family. I would like to ask you to pray for him."
"Very well," answered Winny, gravely, returning his searching look with one as calm. "Why don't you then?"
"Because I have reason to fear that you do not pray for yourself."
This time she colored violently, but still spoke steadily:
"Suppose I do not. Can't I possibly pray for any one else?"