John fell on his knees beside the bed.  “I am going, Rege.  Your father has ordered me away.”

When the thought which has floated—­nebulous—­across our mental vision, suddenly resolves itself into tangible form and becomes a solid fact to be confronted and battled with, the shock is greater than if no shadowy premonition had ever haunted the dreamland of our fancy.  Reginald gave a low cry, then he lay looking at John with eyes full of a blank horror.  His mind utterly refused to grasp the situation.

“You see, Rege, it is this way,” said John gently.  “Your father seems to have taken a dislike to me and lately I have fancied he was only waiting for an excuse to turn me off.  As soon as those fellows began to talk to him about the horses I saw there was trouble brewing.  Everything I did was wrong, and once he swore at me.  He would order me to bring one horse and then change his mind before I got half across the field, and then he would rail at me for not having brought the first one.

“They pitched on Neptune at last, and asked if he had been registered.  I said ‘No,’ so then they refused to pay the price your father asked, and he had to come down on him.  He was furious, and, as soon as the men’s backs were turned, he ordered me out of his sight forever.  He says I have ruined the reputation of Hollywood,” John’s voice broke.

“But, John, you mustn’t go!” cried Reginald.  “You cannot!  My father is out of his mind.  People don’t pay any attention to the ravings of a lunatic.”

John shook his head sadly.  “He is master here, Rege.  There is nothing else for me to do.”

“But, John, it is impossible—­preposterous!  Why, everything will go to ruin without you, and I will take the lead.”

“No, no!” said John quickly.  “You will be a rich man some day, Rege.  Wealth is a wonderful opportunity.  Prepare yourself to use it well.”

“I tell you I can’t do anything without you, John.  I am like a ship without a rudder.  It is no use talking.  I cannot spare you.  You must not go!”

“If you take the great Pilot aboard, Rege, you will be in no danger of drifting.  It is only when we choose Self for our Captain that the ship runs on the rocks.”

* * * * *

“Don, Don!” The child heard his step in the hall long before he reached the door.  He was coming, as he did every night, to give her a ride in his arms before she went to by-by.  She held out her little arms from which the loose sleeves had fallen back.  John lifted her up, for the last time.

He laid his strong, set face against the rosy cheek, and looked into the laughing eyes which the sand man had already sprinkled with his magic powder.  “Nansie, baby, I have come to say good-bye.”

“Not dood-bye, Don, oo always say dood-night.”

“But it is good-bye this time, little one, there will be no more good-nights for you and me.  I am going away.”