e like a thief. When
they found him and punished him as he deserved, there was a little
lady looked down at him and was sorry, and he's traveled over all the
years from then to now to thank her for it."

Ruth drew back in amazement, and Sandy's courage failed for a moment.
Then his face hardened and he plunged recklessly on:

"I've blacked boots, and sold papers; I've fought dogs, and peddled,
and worked on the railroad. Many's the time I've been glad to eat the
scraps the workmen left on the track. And just because a kind, good
man--God prosper his soul!--saw fit to give me a home and an
education, I turned a fool and dared to think I was a gentleman!"

For a moment pride held Ruth's pity back. Every tradition of her
family threw up a barrier between herself and this son of the soil.

"Why did you come to Kentucky?" she asked.

"Why?" cried Sandy, too miserable to hold anything back. "Because I
saw the name of the place on your bag at the pier. I came here for the
chance of seeing you again, of knowing for sure there was something
good and beautiful in the world to offset all the bad I'd seen. Every
page I've learned has been for you, every wrong thought I've put out
of me mind has been to make more room for you. I don't even ask ye to
be my friend; I only ask to be yours, to see ye sometime, to talk to
you, and to keep ye first in my heart and to serve ye to the end."

The vireo had stopped singing and was swinging on a bough above them.

Ruth sat very still and looked straight before her. She had never seen
a soul laid bare before, and the sight thrilled and troubled her. All
the petty artifices which the world had taught her seemed useless
before this shining candor.

"And--and you've remembered me all this time?" she asked, with a
little tremble in her voice. "I did not know people cared like that."

"And you're not sorry?" persisted Sandy. "You'll let me be your
friend?"

She held out her hand with an earnestness as deep as his own. In an
instant he had caught it to his lips. All the bloom of the summer
rushed to her cheeks, and she drew quickly away.

"Oh! but I'll take it back--I never meant it," cried Sandy, wild with
remorse. "Me heart crossed the line ahead of me head, that was all.
You've given me your friendship, and may the sorrow seize me if I ever
ask for more!"

At this the vireo burst into such mocking, derisive laughter of song
that they both looked up and smiled.

"He doesn't think yo