ntil it ended at
the Old Stage Road, he was conscious of the keen, pulsating harmony of
life. It was good to be alive--to feel the warm sunshine overhead and
the warm dust below. He was glad that he had been born, though the idea
had never formulated itself until now. He would be very good all his
life and never do a wicked thing. It was so easy to be good if you only
wanted to. Yes, he would study hard and become learned in the law, like
those old prophets with whom God spoke as man with man. Then, when he
had grown better and wiser than any one on earth, his tongue would
become loosened, and he would go forth to preach the Gospel, and Juliet
would listen to him for his wisdom's sake. Oh, if she would only love
him best--best of all!

This evening the road through the wood did not frighten him, though the
sun was down. He thought neither of the ghosts that Uncle Dan'l had
seen, nor of the bug-a-boos that had chased Viney's husband home. He was
too old for these things now. He had grown taller and stronger in a day.
When he reached the pasture gate opposite the house he opened it and
went in to look for the sheep.

The west was fast losing colour, like a bright-hued fabric that has been
drenched in water, and a thick, blue mist, shot with fireflies, shrouded
the wide common. A fresh, sharp odour rose from the dew-steeped earth,
giving place, as he gained upon the flock, to the smell of moist wool.
As he brushed the heavy, purple tubes of Jamestown weeds long-legged
insects flew out and struck against his arm before they fell in a
drunken stupor to the grass below.

The boy made his way cautiously, his figure becoming blurred as the
mist wrapped him like a blanket. The darkness was gathering rapidly.
From the far-off horizon clouds of lavender were melting, and the pines
had gone gray.

Presently a white patch glimmered in the midst of the pasture, and he
began to call softly:

"Coo-sheep! Coo-sheep!"

A tremulous bleat answered, but as he neared the flock it scattered
swiftly, the errant leaders darting shyly behind the looming outlines of
sassafras bushes. Again he called, and again the plaintive cry
responded, growing fainter as several fleeter ewes sped past him to the
beech trees beside the little stream.

The space before the boy was suddenly spangled with fireflies, and the
mist grew denser.

He broke off a branch of sassafras and started at a brisk run, rounding
by some dozen yards the startled ewes. T