ere was one thing more he had to offer!

"I--I want to tell you 'bout--yo' mother, Sandy--and me! No one ain't
all bad; she was all good and yo' must lay hold o' the good. It will
help if yo' can cling fast enough."

Oddly enough Sandy found himself against his father's breast without a
sense of strangeness. Long years ago he had so lain in the strong
arms--the recollection brought others in its wake; memories of safe,
happy days--before Mary had come into their lives.

"I was older then her!" Martin spoke as if confessing to one who
demanded the best and the truth at last. It was as though he felt that
with the neglect and injustice he had of late shown the boy, there had
been the holding back of his just due. "Yo' mother came from The
Forge, she left a good home for me because she believed in me--she was
terrible young and trusting and she didn't live to--find out! I was
old enough to be her father, and I tried. God help me! I tried, but
it was the old curse and not even the love I had for her could keep me
up. But while she lived--it was better. The cabin was clean and tidy
and she always sang about her work. She only stopped singing toward
the last--when she got thinking about you she got solemner and stiller
and then--you came! She--died the day after, and the blackness of it
has shut the sunlight out of my life ever since, Sandy. I ought to
have took my pay and made no fuss, and for a time I did. You and me
lived on in the cabin with a woman's hand to help at the pinch, and for
years I kept my head and yours above water. But when yo' are a man,
son, you'll think kinder o' me than what yo' do to-day; a man's a man,
and a lonely man is the worst of all--and so"--Martin's grizzly head
was pressed against Sandy's--"and so--Mary came! She didn't ask much;
she only wanted to live along with us-all in the cabin, but----" The
dreary years seemed to spread before both man and boy in the silence
which followed.

"Good-bye, Sandy, good-bye!" Martin choked and held the boy off at
arm's length. "Yo' great-grandfather's name was Sandford Morley. I
gave you the name for good luck--maybe it--will help. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye--dear old Dad!"

The one-time trust and affection flooded the moment and place. Quite
simply and naturally they kissed and fell apart.

"Yo' go first, lad--yo' ain't got nothing to take?" Sandy shook his
head.

"No, Dad. Good-bye. The money will help me on. Some day I'm comi