Deacon Turner not only kept the revelation to himself but apparently his own sacred person also, as he did not call again at Windy Hill Rancho during Mr. Hamlin’s stay.  But he was exceedingly polite in his references to Jack, and alluded patronizingly to a “little chat” they had had together.  And when the usual reaction took place in Mr. Hamlin’s favor and Jack was actually induced to perform on the organ at Hightown Church next Sunday, the deacon’s voice was loudest in his praise.  Even Parson Greenwood allowed himself to be non-committal as to the truth of the rumor, largely circulated, that one of the most desperate gamblers in the State had been converted through his exhortations.

So, with breezy walks and games with the children, occasional confidences with Melinda and Silas, and the Sabbath “singing of anthems,” Mr. Hamlin’s three weeks of convalescence drew to a close.  He had lately relaxed his habit of seclusion so far as to mingle with the company gathered for more social purposes at the rancho, and once or twice unbent so far as to satisfy their curiosity in regard to certain details of his profession.

“I have no personal knowledge of games of cards,” said Parson Greenwood patronizingly, “and think I am right in saying that our brothers and sisters are equally inexperienced.  I am—­ahem—­far from believing, however, that entire ignorance of evil is the best preparation for combating it, and I should be glad if you’d explain to the company the intricacies of various games.  There is one that you mentioned, with a—­er—­scriptural name.”

“Faro,” said Hamlin, with an unmoved face.

“Pharaoh,” repeated the parson gravely; “and one which you call ‘poker,’ which seems to require great self-control.”

“I couldn’t make you understand poker without your playing it,” said Jack decidedly.

“As long as we don’t gamble—­that is, play for money—­I see no objection,” returned the parson.

“And,” said Jack musingly, “you could use beans.”

It was agreed finally that there would be no falling from grace in their playing among themselves, in an inquiring Christian spirit, under Jack’s guidance, he having decided to abstain from card playing during his convalescence, and Jack permitted himself to be persuaded to show them the following evening.

It so chanced, however, that Dr. Duchesne, finding the end of Jack’s “cure” approaching, and not hearing from that interesting invalid, resolved to visit him at about this time.  Having no chance to apprise Jack of his intention, on coming to Hightown at night he procured a conveyance at the depot to carry him to Windy Hill Rancho.  The wind blew with its usual nocturnal rollicking persistency, and at the end of his turbulent drive it seemed almost impossible to make himself heard amongst the roaring of the pines and some astounding preoccupation of the inmates.  After vainly knocking, the doctor pushed open the front door and entered.  He rapped