was a man of great robustity and activity of both body
and mind, and he made no docile invalid. At one moment he seemed to be
greatly depressed, groaned a good deal, and considered that he had not
long to live; but at the next moment he would become impatient, and want
to be up immediately and save the nation from the ravages of the
Democratic party. I went over to see him on the second day of his
illness, and the first thing he said when I came in was this:

"Where's Nort? I'd like to know what's become of the boy. I never
thought he'd leave Hempfield without at least saying good-bye. It isn't
like him."

In writing to Nort that night, I told him of my visit to the old Captain
and what the Captain said, and on the second morning, when I walked into
the office of the _Star_, what was my astonishment to see Nort down on
his knees tinkering the gasoline engine.

Fergus was sitting stiffly on his stool, with his old green shade over
his eyes. I learned afterward the exact circumstances of the meeting
between the two men. Nort had walked in quite as usual, and hung his
coat on the customary hook.

"Hello, Fergus!" he said, also quite as usual.

Fergus looked around at him, and said nothing at all. Nort walked over
to the stone, took up a stickful of type, and began to distribute it in
the cases. Presently he looked around at Fergus with a broad smile on
his face.

"Fergus, where's the fatted calf?"

"Humph!" remarked Fergus.

When Nort got down for another take of the type, Fergus observed to the
general atmosphere:

"The old engine's out of order."

Nort stepped impulsively toward Fergus's case, and said with wistful
affection in his voice:

"I knew, Fergus, that you'd kill the fatted calf for me!"

"Humph!" observed Fergus.

And that was why I found Nort bending over the engine when I came in,
whistling quite in his old way. The moment he saw me, he forestalled any
remark by inquiring:

"How's the Cap'n to-day?"

Anthy did not come to the office at all that morning, and toward noon I
saw Nort rummaging among the exchanges and, having found what he wanted,
he put on his hat and went out. He walked straight up the street to the
homestead of the Doanes--his legs shaking under him. At the gate he
paused and looked up, seriously considered running away, and went in and
knocked at the door.

By some fortunate circumstance Anthy had seen him at the gate, and now
came to the door quite calmly.

"How's the