ted him. Did he
deceive himself? Were there not, at the bottom of it all, the natural
promptings of so close a relationship which not even cruelty, neglect,
and degradation could wholly stifle?

He saw none of the scenes that had charmed his heart on the outward
journey a few days before; for now his sight was either far ahead or
entirely inward. When he reached Dexter, it was as if years had passed
since he left its smoky little station. Things did not look familiar to
him as he went up the old street, because he saw them with new eyes.

Mr. Hodges must have been watching for him, for he opened the door
before he reached it.

"Come in, Freddie," he said in a low voice, tiptoeing back to his chair.
"I 've got great news fur you."

"You need n't tell me what it is," said Brent. "I know that my father is
here."

Eliphalet started up. "Who told you?" he said; "some blockhead, I 'll be
bound, who did n't break it to you gently as I would 'a' done. Actu'lly
the people in this here town--"

"Don't blame the people, Uncle 'Liph," said the young man, smiling in
spite of himself. "I found it out for myself before I arrived; and, I
assure you, it was n't gently broken to me either." To the old man's
look of bewildered amazement, Brent replied with the story of his
meeting with his father.

"It 's the good Lord's doin's," said Eliphalet, reverently.

"I don't know just whose doing it is, but it is an awful accusation to
put on the Lord. I 've still got enough respect for Him not to believe
that."

"Freddie," exclaimed the old man, horror-stricken, "you ain't a-gettin'
irreverent, you ain't a-beginnin' to doubt, air you? Don't do it. I know
jest what you 've had to bear all along, an' I know what you 're
a-bearin' now, but you ain't the only one that has their crosses. I 'm
a-bearin' my own, an' it ain't light neither. You don't know what it is,
my boy, when you feel that somethin' precious is all your own, to have a
real owner come in an' snatch it away from you. While I thought yore
father was dead, you seemed like my own son; but now it 'pears like I
'ain't got no kind o' right to you an' it 's kind o' hard, Freddie, it
's kind o' hard, after all these years. I know how a mother feels when
she loses her baby, but when it 's a grown son that 's lost, one that
she 's jest been pilin' up love fur, it 's--it 's--" The old man paused,
overcome by his emotions.

"I am as much--no, more than ever your son, Uncle 'Liph. No