mystery, the eternal that was there. All that was small and frail
was passing from him. There came a regurgitation of physical
strength--a change of blood.

The following morning while Lane was laboring over his wood pile, he
thought he heard voices in the front yard, and presently Mel came
around the walk accompanied by Doctor Wallace and Doctor Bronson.

"Well, Lane, glad to see you," said Doctor Bronson, in his hearty
tones. "Doctor Wallace and I are on our way to the Grange and thought
we'd stop off a minute."

"How are you, Mr. Lane? I see you're taking work seriously," put in
Doctor Wallace, in his kindly way.

"Oh, I'm coming round all right," replied Lane.

He stood there with his shirt sleeves rolled up, his face bronzed a
little and now warm and moist from the exercise, with something proven
about him, with a suggestion of a new force which made him different.

There was an unmistakable kindliness in the regard of both men and a
scarcely veiled fear Lane was quick to read. Both men were afraid they
would not find him as they had hoped to.

"Mel, you've chosen a charming location for a home," observed Doctor
Wallace.

When Mel was showing her old teacher and friend the garden and
flowerbeds the practical Doctor Bronson asked Lane: "Did you chop all
that wood?"

The doctor pointed to three long piles of wood, composed of short
pieces regularly stacked one upon another.

"I did."

"How long did it take you?"

"I've been weeks at it. That's a long time, but you know, Doctor, I
was in pretty poor condition. I had to go slow."

"Well, you've done wonders. I want to tell you that. I hardly knew
you. You're still thin, but you're gaining. I won't say now what I
think. Be careful of sudden or violent exertion. That's all. You've
done more than doctors can do."

CHAPTER XXII

"Mel, come here," called Lane from the back porch, "who the deuce are
those people coming down the hill?"

Mel shaded her eyes from the glare of the bright morning sun. "The
lady is Miss Hill, my old schoolteacher. I'd know her as far as I
could see her. Look how she carries her left arm. This is Saturday,
for she has neither a lunch basket nor a prayer book in that
outstretched hand. If you see Miss Hill without either you can be
certain it's Saturday. As to the gentleman--Daren, can it possibly be
Colonel Pepper?"

"That's the Colonel, sure as you're alive," declared Lane, with
alacrity. "They must be coming here.