“Well,” said Demorest cheerfully, “your usual luck, Barker boy!” for they already saw in his face the happy light they had once seen there on an eventful night seven years ago.

“I’m to be married to Mrs. Horncastle next month,” he said breathlessly, “and little Sta loves her already as if she was his own mother.  Wish me joy.”

A slight shadow passed over Stacy’s face; but his hand was the first to grasp Barker’s, and his voice the first to say “Amen!”