ks or just visitors?"

"Home folks," said the Dean, directly behind them, as he extended his
hand, "who haven't been home in thirty years."

"You don't say so," Mr. Briggs smiled at him, curiously. "Well, you won't
find many things changed around here in only that time. Want me to 'phone
over for a rig to take you up? The Robbinses are settled in the Hall now.
Shouldn't wonder if it was kind of damp there yet. Had quite a spell
'round here of rainy weather before the frost set in. Looks as if 'twas
going to stay in for a spell of snow now, though. Some boxes came up from
New York yesterday for your folks, but I couldn't tell what was in 'em
off-hand. Felt sort of hefty, though."

"It seems so good," Kit said, fervently, as he moved away from them out of
hearing, "to be around where even the baggage man knows all about you, and
takes an interest in everything. People don't do that out west, do they,
Uncle Cassius? Not even in a little place like Delphi. I wonder if any
one will remember you."

Perhaps the Dean was wondering the same thing as they drove up through the
old hill road towards Gilead. One by one he recognized the old familiar
landmarks and farms as they passed them, but Miss Daphne was far too
engrossed in watching the Dean's own face to care for familiar spots on
the landscape.

It was not until they got up near the Peckham mill that they met any of
the old neighbors, but here Mr. Peckham himself came leisurely down from
the mill path to the bridge and hailed Kit.

"Howdy, Kit. Home for Christmas?" he called cheerily, then taking a good
look at the other occupants of the old station surrey, "Well, Cass
Peabody, who in creation ever thought of seeing you around these parts
again."

The Dean leaned forward, peering over the tops of his glasses with almost
the smile of a boy.

"It's Dan Peckham, isn't it?" he said. "Yours is the first voice to
welcome me home, Dan."

Mr. Peckham insisted on their waiting a moment while he hurried up to the
house to call Elvira. Kit sat back in the carriage enjoying the reunion.
Miss Daphne had gone to school years before at the Select Academy for
Young Ladies, over in Willimantic, with Elvira Evans long before she
became Mrs. Peckham. Kit felt, listening to the four of them go over dear
old reminiscences, that it was as though she stood at the curtain of the
past, on tiptoe at a peep-hole.

The early twilight had already begun to set in by the time they reached
the