horizon.

Lillian was ready, erect, tense, waiting, for miles and miles before her
destination could be reached, when suddenly the conductor appeared, his
face alive with the realization of sensation. The sheriff of the county
had flagged the train. He had a vehicle in waiting for Mrs. Royston, in
order that she might curtail the distance, as the house where the child
was held was on the verge of the Qualla Boundary, and the nearest station
was still some miles further. There were few words spoken on that hasty
morning drive under the vast growths of the dense and gigantic valley
woods. The freshness of the forest air, the redundant bloom of the
rhododendron, the glimpse now and again of a scene of unparalleled
splendor of mountain range and the graces of the Oconalufty River,
swirling and dandering through the sunshine as if its chant in praise of
June must have a meaning translated to the dullest ear--all was for
Lillian as if it had not been. The officers had cast but one glance at
her tense, pale face, then turned their eyes away. The suspense, the
pain, the torture of fear could end only with that signal moment of
identification. Though the group respected her sorrow in silence, they
themselves experienced the rigors of uncertainty and agitation when the
log cabin came into view amidst the laurel, and every man of them trooped
in, following her, when the door opened and she was ushered into the
little, low-ceiled room, so mean, so rough, so dingy of hue. But for her
it held the wealth of the universe, the joy of all the ages. There upon
the bed lay her sleeping child, larger, more vigorous, than she
remembered him, garbed in a quaint little garment of blue gingham; his
blond hair clipped close, save for two fine curls on top, worn indeed
like a scalp-lock; his long lashes on his cheeks, rosy ripe; his red lips
slightly parted; his fine, firm-fleshed, white arms tossed above his
head; his long, bare legs and plump, dimpled feet stretched out at their
full length. His lips moved with an unformulated murmur as her
hysterical, quavering scream of joyful recognition rang through the room.
Then he opened his big blue eyes to find his mother bending over him. He
did not recognize her at once, and after a peevish sleepy stare he pushed
her aside, calling plaintively for his precious "Polly Hopkins."

"Oh, bring Polly Hopkins, whoever she is!" cried the poor rebuffed
mother. "And Heaven bless her if she has been good to hi