in with
that last ethereal wail of the swan that quivered and faded away into
the sky.

It left John sitting so silent and rapt that he did not for some time
notice the usher tapping him lightly on the shoulder and saying
politely, "Will you step this way, please, sir?" A little surprised,
he arose quickly at the last tap, and, turning to leave his seat,
looked full into the face of the fair-haired young man. For the first
time the young man recognized his dark boyhood playmate, and John knew
that it was the Judge's son. The White John started, lifted his hand,
and then froze into his chair; the black John smiled lightly, then
grimly, and followed the usher down the aisle. The manager was sorry,
very, very sorry,--but he explained that some mistake had been made in
selling the gentleman a seat already disposed of; he would refund the
money, of course,--and indeed felt the matter keenly, and so forth,
and--before he had finished John was gone, walking hurriedly across the
square and down the broad streets, and as he passed the park he
buttoned his coat and said, "John Jones, you're a natural-born fool."
Then he went to his lodgings and wrote a letter, and tore it up; he
wrote another, and threw it in the fire. Then he seized a scrap of
paper and wrote: "Dear Mother and Sister--I am coming--John."

"Perhaps," said John, as he settled himself on the train, "perhaps I am
to blame myself in struggling against my manifest destiny simply
because it looks hard and unpleasant. Here is my duty to Altamaha
plain before me; perhaps they'll let me help settle the Negro problems
there,--perhaps they won't. 'I will go in to the King, which is not
according to the law; and if I perish, I perish.'" And then he mused
and dreamed, and planned a life-work; and the train flew south.

Down in Altamaha, after seven long years, all the world knew John was
coming. The homes were scrubbed and scoured,--above all, one; the
gardens and yards had an unwonted trimness, and Jennie bought a new
gingham. With some finesse and negotiation, all the dark Methodists
and Presbyterians were induced to join in a monster welcome at the
Baptist Church; and as the day drew near, warm discussions arose on
every corner as to the exact extent and nature of John's
accomplishments. It was noontide on a gray and cloudy day when he
came. The black town flocked to the depot, with a little of the white
at the edges,--a happy throng, with "Good-mawnings" and