this Jean was afraid of him," a recent-comer to the town
declared.

"Oh, if he was afraid of this young man, this boy," Judson declared, "he
would have feared something else; that's it, he'd been afraid of other
things."

"He was," O'mie spoke up.

"Well, what was it, O'mie?" Dr. John queried.

"Ghosts," O'mie replied gravely. "Oh, I know," he declared, as the crowd
laughed. "I can prove it to you and tell you all about it. I'll do it
some day, but I'll need the schoolhouse and some lantern slides to make
it effective. I may charge a small admission fee and give a benefit to
defray Bud's expenses home from this trip."

"Would you really do that, O'mie?" Mary Gentry asked him.

But the query, "Where's Phil, now?" was going the rounds, and the
answers were many. My doings had not been reported in the town, and
gossip still was active concerning me.

"Up at Topeka," "Gone to St. Louis," "Back in Massachusetts." These were
followed by Dave Mead's declaration:

"The best boy that ever went out of Springvale. Just his father over
again. He'll make some place prouder than it would have been without
him."

Nobody knew who started the story just then, but it grew rapidly from
Tillhurst's side of the table that I had gone to Rockport,
Massachusetts, to settle in my father's old home-town.

"Stands to reason a boy who can live in Kansas would go back to
Massachusetts, doesn't it?" Dr. John declared scornfully.

"But Phil's to be married soon, to that stylish Miss Melrose. She's got
the money, and Phil would become a fortune. Besides, she was perfectly
infatuated with him."

"Well," somebody else asserted, "if he does marry her, he can bring her
back here to live. My! but Judge Baronet's home will be a grand place to
go to then. It was always good enough."

Amid all this clatter Marjie was as indifferent and self-possessed as
if my name were a stranger's. Those who had always known her did not
dream of what lay back of that sweet girl-face. She was the belle of
Springvale, and she had too many admirers for any suspicion of the truth
to find a place.

While the story ran on Bud turned to her and said in a low voice,
"Marjie, I'm going to Phil. He needth me now."

Nobody except Bud noticed how white the girl was, as the company rising
from the table swept her away from him.

That night Dr. Hemingway's prayer was fervent with love. The boys were
always on his heart, and he called us all by name. He prayed for the