d cut his visit short. The
confession in the study had not drawn Treadwell nearer; it had driven
him farther away. It was as if, by keener insight, Sandy had been
cruelly disillusioned; had discovered that he, not Lans, was bound to
bear a new burden of responsibility. Having confided in his friend,
Treadwell, apparently, was eased and comforted; while Sandy was
constantly thinking of a certain, vague, little suffering creature who,
by a word of his, was left to a hard fight with no help at hand.

"Why in thunder!" Sandy thought as he and Martin worked with the men
over at the factory; "why in thunder doesn't he go home and--stand by?"

But Lans did not go away, and more than Sandy grew restive. Martin had
taken a deep dislike to the visitor and was only held in check by
Sandy's reasoning and demands.

"Why, Dad, Lans had nothing to do with the old misunderstanding. He
has really done us a good turn by throwing light on the past."

"He--he laughed!" muttered Martin. "They-all laugh that-er-way. Big
things is little to them-all; and little things is--big! Them
Hertfords be--no-count! They all sound upperty and look upperty, but
they-all is--trash!"

"Come, come, Dad! Lans isn't trash. He's done me more than one good
turn."

"I reckon he'll do you a right smart bad one some day, son."

"Dad!"

"Yes, son. Now, why didn't the old general come an' tell us-all 'bout
the joke? Why didn't he give us-all a chance to jine in the laugh?
Then this lad's father--why didn't he come back to Lost Hollow and find
out 'bout--Queenie Walden, as was?"

Martin's voice sank into a whisper, but the words had a terrific effect
upon Sandy. So naturally had he accepted the life of The Hollow again,
so happily had he permitted his hills to draw close about him, shutting
away the noises and interpretations of the big outer world, that the
old doubt about Cynthia's poor mother, the loyal outward holding to the
story Ann Walden had told of her birth, had escaped him. Now it came
thundering through Martin's whisper like a heavy blow.

If that hushed belief were true, then--Sandy could not stand; he sat
down upon a fallen tree and stared at his father.

"If that is true, then Cynthia and Treadwell are----" The thought
burned itself into the mind and soul of Sandy Morley. No longer could
he permit things to drift past him; here, among his hills, vital truths
were vital truths and might make or mar the people he was bent up