ere turned on the
two.

Finally Carker's lips parted.

"Madge!" he breathed. And then after a moment, during which his bosom
heaved, he repeated: "Madge!"

"Why, how do you do, Greg!" she laughed, extending her hand. "This is
perfectly delightful! This is a most unexpected pleasure! I never
dreamed of seeing you, Greg!"

"Why, this is queer!" exclaimed Winnie Lee. "So you know my friend, Mrs.
Morton, do you, Gregory?"

"I know her," came huskily, from Carker's lips. "I know her very well."

"Oh, yes," gushed the young woman, "we are old friends--dear old
friends."

Juanita had fallen back behind the others. Her hands quivered a bit, and
her white teeth were sunk into her lower lip. In a whisper she breathed
to herself:

"This is the woman!"

CHAPTER XXI.

AT MERRY HOME.

On arriving in Bloomfield, they found Frank Merriwell at the station
with carriages to accommodate them all.

Imagine their feelings as they once more greeted their old comrade and
leader. Even Buck Badger, the big breezy man of command, seemed to take
a second place in the presence of Frank.

Many of the Bloomfield citizens had somehow learned that several of
Merry's friends were coming on that train, and, as a result, there was a
gathering at the station. The curious ones stared at Merriwell's old
flock, and it was generally remarked that these friends of Frank were
"all right."

Eli Given, Uncle Ed Small, and Deacon Elnathan Hewett were there in a
triangular group, and they nodded and chuckled and shook hands with each
other as Frank shook hands with the members of his old flock.

"Purty 'tarnal good-looking people, Eben," said Eli. "Look at that big
feller with the wide hat that has the leather band round it. There's a
real man for ye."

"Yep," nodded Eben, leaning on his crooked cane and looking the party
over. "He's a man, the hull of him, but even at that I don't cal'late he
quite comes up to our Frank. What do you think, deacon?"

"Boys," said Elnathan, "I ain't never yit seen the man that comes up to
our Frank. All Bloomfield is proud of him to the bustin' point, and they
ought to be."

"By jinks!" grinned Eli; "that tall feller jest introduced one of the
dark-eyed gals as his wife. Wush! but she's a beaut! He's homelier than
a barn door with the paint washed off, but she's a peach. Wonder how he
ever ketched her."

"She's Spanish, or French, or something ferrun," asserted Uncle Eb. "I
heerd her say something