rses started forward. Presently he turned to John:

"Did you ever think of gettin' married?" he asked.

"Well," said our friend with a little hesitation, "I don't remember that
I ever did, very definitely."

"Somebody 't you knew 'fore you come up here?" said David, jumping at a
conclusion.

"Yes," said John, smiling a little at the question.

"Wouldn't she have ye?" queried David, who stuck at no trifles when in
pursuit of information.

John laughed. "I never asked her," he replied, in truth a little
surprised at his own willingness to be questioned.

"Did ye cal'late to when the time come right?" pursued Mr. Harum.

Of this part of his history John had, of course, never spoken to David.
There had been a time when, if not resenting the attempt upon his
confidence, he would have made it plain that he did not wish to discuss
the matter, and the old wound still gave him twinges. But he had not
only come to know his questioner very well, but to be much attached to
him. He knew, too, that the elder man would ask him nothing save in the
way of kindness, for he had had a hundred proofs of that; and now, so
far from feeling reluctant to take his companion into his confidence, he
rather welcomed the idea. He was, withal, a bit curious to ascertain the
drift of the inquiry, knowing that David, though sometimes working in
devious ways, rarely started without an intention. And so he answered
the question and what followed as he might have told his story to a
woman.

"An' didn't you never git no note, nor message, nor word of any kind?"
asked David.

"No."

"Nor hain't ever heard a word about her f'm that day to this?"

"No."

"Nor hain't ever tried to?"

"No," said John. "What would have been the use?"

"Prov'dence seemed to 've made a putty clean sweep in your matters that
spring, didn't it?"

"It seemed so to me," said John.

Nothing more was said for a minute or two. Mr. Harum appeared to have
abandoned the pursuit of the subject of his questions. At last he said:

"You ben here most five years."

"Very nearly," John replied.

"Ben putty contented, on the hull?"

"I have grown to be," said John. "Indeed, it's hard to realize at times
that I haven't always lived in Homeville. I remember my former life as
if it were something I have read in a book. There was a John Lenox in
it, but he seems to me sometimes more like a character in a story than
myself."

"An' yet," said David, turning toward him, "if