The Villain-Worshipper
"It is madness now," said the bitter mother. "It was only a stupid, hare-brained fancy then, but now it is something worse. You're the first to whom I have admitted it," she continued, with illogical indignation, "because it's all through you!"
"All through me?"
"You told him a tale. You made that villain a greater hero in his eyes than ever. You made him real."
"He is real enough, God knows!"
"But you made him so to my son." The keen eyes softened for one divine instant before they filled. "And I—I am talking my own boy over with—with"
Stingaree stood in twofold embarrassment. Did she know after all who he was? And what had he said he was, the time before?
"The lowest of the low," he answered, with a twitch of his unshaven lips.
"No! That you were not, or are not, whatever you may say. You—" she hesitated sweetly—"you had been unsteady when you were here before." He twitched again, imperceptibly. "I am thankful to see that you are now more like what you must once have been. I can bear to tell you of my boy. Oh, sir, can you bear with me?"
Stingaree twitched no more. Rich as the situa-
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