y he came out of the shade to confront her, face to face in the
open sunlight. She uttered a cry and dropped something she had been
carrying.

"Don't be scared, Miss," he said, happily. "I'm no tramp, though I did
rant in like a trespasser. I want to find Mrs. Bill Smith. I'm--"

But Pan got no farther. The girl had reason to be scared, but should
her hands fly to her bosom like that, and press there as if she had
been hurt. He must have frightened her. And he was about to stammer
his apologies and make himself known, when the expression on her face
struck him mute. Her healthy golden skin turned white. Her lips
quivered, opened. Then her eyes--their color was violet and something
about them seemed to stab Pan. His mind went into a deadlock--seemed
to whirl--and to flash again into magnified thoughts.

"_Pan! Pan!_" she cried, and moved toward him, her eyes widening,
shining with a light he had never seen in another woman's.

"Pan! Don't you--know me?"

"Sure--but I don't know _who_ you are," Pan muttered in bewilderment.

"I'm Lucy! ... Oh, Pan--you've come back," she burst out, huskily,
with a deep break in her voice.

She seemed to leap toward him--into the arms he flung wide, as with
tremendous shock he recognized her name, her voice, her eyes. It was a
moment beyond reason.... He was crushing her to his breast, kissing
her in a frenzy of sudden realization of love. Lucy! Lucy! Little
Lucy Blake, his baby, his child sweetheart, his schoolmate! And the
hunger of the long lonely years, never realized, leaped to his lips now.

She flung her arms round his neck, and for a few moments gave him kiss
for kiss. Then suddenly she shivered and her head fell forward on his
breast.

Pan held her closely, striving for self-control. And he gazed out into
the trees with blurred eyes. What a home-coming! Lucy, grown into a
tall beautiful girl who had never forgotten him. He was shaken to his
depths by the revelation that now came to him. He had always loved
Lucy! Never anyone else, never knowing until this precious moment!
What a glorious trick for life to play him. He held her, wrapped her
closer, bent his face to her fragrant hair. It was dull gold now.
Once it had been bright, shiny, light as the color of grass on the
hill. He kissed it, conscious of unutterable gratitude and exaltation.

She stirred, put her hands to his breast and broke away from him,
tragic eyed, strange.

"Pan, I--I