lame, but it answered.

"And you--sir?"

"Oh, I am--the man from the North."

"You sound like you had Southern blood."

"My father and mother were Southerners."

"From round this-er-way?"

Again the man closed his eyes; the sweet voice and dear familiar
expressions were almost more than he could bear.

"Not very far away."

A very little seemed enough to pacify the girl's curiosity.

"I reckon the North's mighty big," she ventured presently.

"It's--it's--tremendous."

"Do you know anything about--Massachusetts?"

"I came from there."

"Oh! And is that--so mighty big?"

"Not so big as the whole North. Though some still think it is."

"Did you ever hear----" Cynthia paused and clasped her hands together;
"of a--a boy named Sandy Morley? He went from here to there--long ago?"

It was a wild question, but the day was so haunted by Sandy that the
words came of their own volition.

"I've met him; yes, I know him slightly."

The colour rose and faded in Cynthia's face and her breath came quick
and hard.

"Oh! tell me about him. He came from this--Hollow! He went away years
and years ago. Tell me--what has he become?"

Yearning, curiosity and honest interest marked the words, but the face
of the girl was a child's face, not a woman's. "He must be a right big
boy now!"

The man standing in The Way could not repress a smile. He saw that
Cynthia Walden had in fancy enshrined the boy Sandy, but would she
welcome the man Sandy had become? Fearfully, dreading the test that
must be made, he drew nearer, and with lowered eyes bowed, and said:

"I am Sandy Morley!"

Cynthia gave a frightened glance at the tall, dark stranger in the
road. She noticed, as if for the first time, his high laced boots, his
corduroy trousers fastened in them, his flannel shirt and felt hat.
All was fine and different, oh! so different from the ragged ugliness
of the hills. That a stranger should be so clad did not interest her,
but that her childhood's friend and slave should wear this livery of
position shattered the beautiful portrait of the "Biggest of Them All"
by one cruel blow.

"No! You cannot be Sandy--not Sandy Morley." Cynthia stepped back
with outstretched hands as if to ward off an attack. The light faded
from Sandy Morley's face and his eyes grew dark and pleading.

"I've been right homesick all the years," he faltered. "I've tried to
make myself worthy to come back. Always I have dreamed of you