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After him ran another five or six years older. When the child saw he
would be overtaken, he headed straight for the street; as the pursuer's
hand brushed him, he threw himself kicking and clawing. The elder boy
hesitated, looking for an opening to find a hold. The car was half a block
away when Leslie turned a white face to Douglas and gasped inarticulately.
He understood something was wrong so signalled the driver to stop.
"Turn and pass those children again!" ordered Leslie.
As the car went by slowly the second time, the child still fought, the boy
stepped back, while James Minturn with grim face, bent under the light and
by force took into his arms the twisting, fighting boy.
"Heaven help him!" cried Douglas. "Not a sign of happy reconciliation
there!"
Leslie tried to choke down her sobs.
"Oh Nellie Minturn! Poor woman!" she wailed.
"So _that's_ what he was doing!" marvelled Douglas. "A house he has built
to suit himself; training his sons personally, with the assistance of his
Little Brother.


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