seen, all we had hoped to be and never been in life, we expected to see in him. We skimped and saved and gave him an education. Sometimes we didn't have much to eat at home—but we didn't care. Did we, Ma?"
The mother shook her head.
"Then we mortgaged the farm and sent him here to study three years and be a great doctor."
He paused, bent low and covered his face with his hands.
"And now, sir, he's taken to drink, and they tell us at the college he—won't—get—his—diploma! And we thought, after we heard you, maybe you could see him, get hold of him, and help us save him. He's all we've got. The rest are dead."
Gordon looked away and his lips quivered.
"You'll help us, Doctor?"
"I'll do the best I can for you, my friends. It's such a sad old story in this town that one gets hardened to it till we see it in some fresh revelation of anguish like yours."
He took the name and address and the old man and woman went out, softly crying.
A widow came to tell him of an assault on her twelve-year-old daughter.
"And because the brute is a rich man on an avenue," she sobbed, "they've turned him loose with a fine. I'm poor and ignorant, and I'm not a member of your church, but all the people are talking
