his aunt would dislike it. Wearing the
station of Westways Crossing, John fell into a laughing account of his
first arrival and of the meeting with Leila. The home-tonic was of use
and he was glad with gay gladness that the war was over.

As the train stopped, he said as he got out, "There is no carriage--you
telegraphed, McGregor?"

"Yes, I did, but the service is, I fancy, snowed under just now with
messages. I will walk on and have them send for you."

"No," said John, "I am quite able to walk. Come along."

"Are you really able?"

"Yes--we'll take it easy."

"There isn't much left of you to carry what remains."

"My legs are all right, Tom." He led the way through the woods until they
came out on the avenue. "Think of it, Tom,--it is close to nine years
since first I left Grey Pine for the Point."

In the afternoon of this sunny day late in April the Colonel sat on the
porch with his wife. Below them on the step Rivers was reading aloud the
detailed account of Lincoln's death. Leila coming out of the house was
first to see the tall thin figure in dark undress uniform. She was
thankful for an unwatched moment of ability to gain entire self-command.
It was needed. She helped herself by her cry of joyous recognition.

"Aunt Ann! Aunt Ann!" she cried, "there is Dr. McGregor and--and John and
Josiah." The aunt cast a look of anxiety at the expressionless face of
James Penhallow, as he rose to his feet, saying, "Why wasn't I told?"

"We did not know, sir," said Rivers, dropping the paper as he went down
the steps to meet the new-comer.

Then the wasted figure with the left arm in a sling was in Ann
Penhallow's embrace.

"My God!" he said, "but it's good to be at home." As he spoke he turned
to the Colonel who had risen.

"Got hit, John? It runs in the family. Once had a Sioux arrow through my
arm. Glad to see you. Want to be fed up a bit. Lord! but you're lean." He
said no more, but sat down again without appearance of interest.

Rivers made John welcome with a pleasant word, and Leila coming forward
took his hand, saying quietly, "We hardly looked for you to-day, but it
is none too soon." Then she turned to McGregor, "We have much to thank
you for. You will stay to dine?"

John, still too sensitive, was troubled as he realized his uncle's
condition, and felt that there was something in Leila's manner which was
unlike that of the far-remembered Leila of other days. She had urged
McGregor to stay and din