yet not so consoled but that he became a humble and tender Christian. To the embarrassed astonishment of his children, he played with them every evening. To Cleo he was almost uxorious.
"Dearest," he said, "I realize that I have—oh, it isn't entirely my fault; I've been so absorbed in the Work: but the fact remains that I haven't given you enough attention, and tomorrow evening I want you to go to a concert with me."
"Oh, Elmer!" she rejoiced.
And he sent her flowers, once.
"You see!" his mother exulted. "I knew you and Cleo would be happier if I just pointed out a few things to you. After all, your old mother may be stupid and Main-Street, but there's nobody like a mother to understand her own boy, and I knew that if I just spoke to you, even if you are a Doctor of Divinity, you'd see things different!"
"Yes, and it was your training that made me a Christian and a preacher. Oh, a man does owe so much to a pious mother!" said Elmer.
Mannie Silverhorn was one of the best ambulance-chasers in Zenith. A hundred times he had made the street-car company pay damages to people whom they had not damaged; a hundred times he had made motorists pay for injuring people whom they had not injured. But with all his talent, Mannie had one misfortune—he would get drunk.
Now, in general, when he was drunk Mannie was able to keep from talking about his legal cases, but this time he was drunk in the presence of Bill Kingdom, reporter for the Advocate-Times, and Mr. Kingdom was an even harder cross-examiner than Mr. Silverhorn.
Bill had been speaking without affection of Dr. Gantry when Mannie leered, "Say, jeeze, Bill, your Doc Gantry is going to get his! Oh, I got him where I want him! And maybe it won't cost him some money to be so popular with the ladies!"
Bill looked rigorously uninterested. "Aw, what are you trying to pull, Mannie! Don't be a fool! You haven't got anything on Elmer, and you never will have. He's too smart
