hed the mainland and made connections with the train, the travellers'
route lay along scenes very different from the rugged rocks and sands they
had left. As they swept by golden harvest fields and ripening orchards and
vineyards whose rich yield was purpling in the autumn sun, good Brother
Bart heaved a sigh of deepest content.

"Sure you may say what you please about water, Danny lad, but God's
blessing is on the good green land. If it be the Lord's will, I'll never
leave it again; though we might have found worse places than Killykinick
and those good old men there,--may God lead them to the Light!"

And as the Limited Express made its schedule time, Pete Patterson was just
closing up as usual at sundown, when a sturdy, brown-cheeked boy burst
into his store,--a boy that it took Pete's keen eyes full half a minute to
recognize.

"Dan Dolan!" he cried at last,--"Dan Dolan, grown and fattened and slicked
up like--like a yearling heifer! Danny boy, I'm glad to see you,--I'm glad
to see you, sure! You've come to take the job?"

"No, I haven't,--thank you all the same, Pete!" was the quick answer.
"I've struck luck for sure,--luck with a fine old plute, who is ready to
stake me for all I could earn here, and keep me at St. Andrew's."

"Stake you for all you could earn here?" echoed Pete, in amazement.

"I'll tell you all about it later," said Dan, breathlessly. "Just now I'm
dumb struck, Pete. I came flying back to take up my old quarters at the
Mulligans' and find the house shut up and everybody gone. Land! It did
give me a turn, sure! I was counting on that little room upstairs, and all
Aunt Winnie's things she left there, and Tabby and the stove and the blue
teapot. But they're all gone." And Dan sank down on a big packer's box
feeling that he was facing a dissolving world in which he had no place.

"Oh, they're not far!" said Pete, a little gruffly; for Dan's tidings had
been somewhat of a blow. "The old woman's father died and left a little
bit of money, and they bought a tidy little place out on Cedar Place, not
far from St. Mary's Church. You'll find them there. You've made up your
mind for good and all to stick to the highbrows? I'd make it worth your
while to come here."

Dan rose from the packer's box and looked around at the hams and shoulders
and lard buckets and answered out of the fulness of his grateful heart:

"Yes, I've made up my mind, Pete. It's St. Andrew's for me,--St. Andrew's
now and, I hope