her
than a trip of less than a hundred miles. It had been a long time since
he had been on a train, and at first he felt a little dubious. But he
was soon at home, for his kindly face drew his fellow-passengers to him,
and he had no lack of pleasant companions on the way.

Like Fred, the noises of the great station would have bewildered him,
but as he alighted and passed through the gate a strong hand was laid
on his shoulder, and his palm was pressing the palm of his beloved son.
The old carpet-bag fell from his hands.

"Freddie Brent, it ain't you?"

"It 's I, Uncle 'Liph, and no one else. And I 'm so glad to see you that
I don't know what to do. Give me that bag."

They started away, the old man chattering like a happy child. He could
not keep from feasting his eyes on the young man's face and form.

"Well, Freddie, you jest don't look like yoreself. You 're--you 're--"

"I 'm a man, Uncle 'Liph."

"I allus knowed you 'd be, my boy. I allus knowed you 'd be. But yore
aunt Hester told me to ask you ef--ef you 'd dropped all yore religion.
She 's mighty disturbed about yore dancin'."

Brent laughed aloud in pure joy.

"I knowed you had n't," the old man chuckled.

"Lost it all? Uncle 'Liph, why, I 've just come to know what religion
is. It 's to get bigger and broader and kinder, and to live and to love
and be happy, so that people around you will be happy."

"You 're still a first-rate preacher, Freddie."

"Oh, yes, Uncle 'Liph; I 've been to a better school than the Bible
Seminary. I have n't got many religious rules and formulas, but I 'm
trying to live straight and do what is right."

The old man had paused with tears in his eyes. "I been a-prayin' fur
you," he said.

"So has Alice," replied the young man, "though I don't see why she needs
to pray. She 's a prayer in herself. She has made me better by letting
me love her. Come up, Uncle 'Liph. I want you to see her before we go on
to my little place."

They stopped before a quiet cottage, and Fred knocked. In the little
parlour a girl came to them. She was little, not quite up to Fred's
shoulder. His eyes shone as he looked down upon her brown head. There
were lines about her mouth, as if she had known sorrow that had
blossomed into sweetness. The young man took her hand. "Uncle 'Liph," he
said, "this is Alice."

She came forward with winning frankness, and took the old man's hand in
hers. The tears stood in his eyes again.

"This is Alice," h