across a bent
face.

"I--I am dreaming!" The words came brokenly. "I am bewitched!"

But with characteristic quickness of thought and action she put her doubt
to the test. Running across the space between her and that slow-stepping
figure she panted huskily:

"Master Farwell! Master Farwell!"

He turned and fixed his deep, haunting eyes upon her.

"It's Priscilla Glenn!" he whispered, as if to reassure himself; "little
Priscilla of the In-Place."

By some trick of over-stimulated imagination Priscilla tried to adjust
the gentle, kindly man she knew and loved to the strange creature into
which he had evolved since last she met him, but she could not! To her he
would always be the friend and helper, the understanding guide of her
stormy girlhood. The rest was but shadows that came and went, cast by
happenings with which she had nothing to do.

They were holding each other's hands under the window from which Boswell
was, perhaps, at that very moment watching and waiting.

"Oh! my Master Farwell!" The tears rolled from the glad eyes. "I did not
know how far and how sadly I had gone until this minute!"

"But you have not forgotten to be little Priscilla Glenn. My dear! My
dear! how glad and thankful I am to see you. You have grown--yes; you
have grown into the woman I knew you would. Your eyes are--faithful; your
lips still smile. Oh! Priscilla, the world has not"--he paused and his
old, quivering laugh rang out cautiously--"the world has not--doshed
you!"

And then Priscilla caught him by the arm.

"You have not seen--him?" she looked upward.

"No. I was getting up my courage. The bird just freed from its cage--is
timid."

"Come! A minute will not matter. I must know about my home people."

They walked on together. Then, because her heart was beating fast and the
tears lying near, she drew close to her deepest interest by a circuitous
way.

"Tell me of--of Mrs. McAdam and Jerry McAlpin?"

"Mrs. McAdam is famous and rich. The White Fish Lodge has a waiting list
every summer. The--the body of Sandy drifted into the Channel a month
after you left. Bounder found it. You remember how he used to know the
sound of Sandy's engine? The day the body was washed up he--seemed to
know. One grave is filled, and Mary McAdam has put a monument between the
two graves with the names of both boys. Jerry McAlpin has grown old
and--and respectable. He has a fancy that Jerry-Jo will come back a fine
gentleman. All these yea