ain under
cover of the darkness, but always vanished when the daylight came.

The next Saturday that they went to town was a cold, blustering day.
They started late, taking a lunch with them, not intending to come
home until the middle of the afternoon.

The wind blew a perfect gale by the time they reached town. Mr.
Dearborn stopped his team in front of one of the principal groceries,
saying, "Hop out, Steven, and see what they're paying for turkeys
to-day."

As he sprang over the wheel an old gentleman came running around the
corner after his hat, which the wind had carried away.

Steven caught it and gave it to him. He clapped it on his bald crown
with a good-natured laugh. "Thanky, sonny!" he exclaimed heartily.
Then he disappeared inside the grocery just as Mr. Dearborn called
out, "I believe I'll hitch the horses and go in too; I'm nearly
frozen."

Steven followed him into the grocery, and they stood with their hands
spread out to the stove while they waited for the proprietor. He was
talking to the old gentleman whose hat Steven had rescued.

He seemed to be a very particular kind of customer.

"Oh, go on! go on!" he exclaimed presently. "Wait on those other
people while I make up my mind."

While Mr. Dearborn was settling the price of his turkeys, the old
gentleman poked around like an inquisitive boy, thumping the pumpkins,
smelling the coffee, and taking occasional picks at the raisins.
Presently he stopped in front of Steven with a broad, friendly smile
on his face.

"You're from the country, ain't you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," answered Steven in astonishment.

"Came from there myself, once," he continued with a chuckle. "Law,
law! You'd never think it now. Fifty years makes a heap o'
difference."

He took another turn among the salt barrels and cracker boxes, then
asked suddenly, "What's your name, sonny?"

"Steven," answered the boy, still more surprised.

The old fellow gave another chuckle and rubbed his hands together
delightedly. "Just hear that, will you!" he exclaimed. "Why, that's my
name, my very own name, sir! Well, well, well, well!"

He stared at the child until he began to feel foolish and
uncomfortable. What image of his own vanished youth did that boyish
face recall to the eccentric old banker?

As Mr. Dearborn turned to go Steven started after him.

"Hold on, sonny," called the old gentleman, "I want to shake hands
with my namesake."

He pressed a shining half-dollar i