Wade.
Ed had told her long before this.

It was a pleasant little room with its sloping ceilings and cheerful
pink paper. The bed was neatly spread with a patchwork quilt, and the
blankets and counterpane were folded and piled upon the foot. The old
mahogany bureau was just as she had left it, doubtless. The little,
knick-knacks still stood upon the brackets, and in the worsted-worked
pincushion a gold brooch was sticking.

He closed the window and returned to the floor below. A door under the
stairway led from the hall to the kitchen. He crossed the latter and
passed out into the yard. Back of the house the ground sloped slightly
to a distant stone wall, which apparently marked the limit there of
Wade's domain. At one time there had been a fence between the orchard
and the meadow beyond, but now only an occasional crumbling post
remained. Trees had grown up here and there in the meadow, a few young
maples, a patch of locusts, and some straggling sumacs. Birds sang in
the trees, and once, when he listened, Wade thought he could hear the
tinkling of a brook.

Toward the centre of the village his ground ran only to a matter of ten
or twelve yards from the kitchen door. There was just room for the
little garden between house and fence. On that side his nearest neighbor
was distant the width of several untenanted lots. On the other side,
however, there was more space. There were some shade-trees here, and
around one of them, an ancient elm, ran a wooden seat, much carved and
lettered. The boundary here was a continuation of the lilac hedge which
fronted the street, and in it was an arched gate leading to the next
yard. But from the gate all Wade could discern was the end of a white
house and a corner of a brick chimney some forty yards distant; trees
and shrubbery hid more of his neighbor's estate.

Wade returned to the front of the house, hands in his pockets, a tune on
his lips. He had taken his valise from the back of the carryall before
the driver, who was half asleep, discovered his presence. He blinked and
dropped his feet from the dashboard.

"You all ready?" he asked.

Wade shook his head.

"I've changed my mind," he said. "I'm going to stay awhile."

III.

That was a stirring afternoon in Eden Village. Wade's advent was like
the dropping of a stone into the centre of a quiet pool. Prout's Store
was the centre of the pool, and it was there that the splash and
upheaval occurred, and from there the