ain moved on and the pair and their warm faces were
lost to view. John took out some notes he had made in regard to the
masonry of a vault in the new building and tried to fix his mind on
them, but it was difficult to do. The mental picture of that young
couple filled his whole being with a strange titillating warmth. Within
an hour his view of life had broadened wonderfully. He was not devoid of
imagination and it was now being directed for the first time away from
the details of his occupation. He could not have analyzed his state of
mind, but he had taken his first step into what was a veritable new
birth.

"It is ahead of you, too, my boy!" Nothing Cavanaugh had ever said to
him could have meant so much as those words. A home, a wife all his own.
Why had he never thought of it before? He was conscious of a sort of
filial love for the old contractor that was as new as the other feeling.
He was conscious, too, of a new sense of manhood, and a pride in his
professional ability that was bound to help him forward.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when they arrived at Cranston. The
Ordinary of the county, at Cavanaugh's request, had arranged board for
the two men at the house of a farmer, there being no hotel in the
village where board could be had by the week at a rate low enough for a
laborer's pocket. So at the station they were met by the farmer himself,
Richard Whaley, who stepped forward from a group of staring mountaineers
and stiffly introduced himself.

He was a man of sixty-five, bald, gray as to hair and beard, and
slightly bent from rheumatism. His skin was yellowish and had the brown
splotches which indicate general physical decay.

"My old woman is looking for you," he said, coldly. "She made the
arrangement. I have nothing to do with it. She and my daughter do all
the cooking and housework. If they want to make a little extra money I
can't object. The whole county is excited over the new court-house. They
act and talk like it was Solomon's temple, and will look on you two as
divine agents of some sort. Folks are fools, as you no doubt know."

"A little bit--from experience," Cavanaugh joked. "The Ordinary tells me
you are a Methodist. That's what I am, brother, and I'll love to live
under a Methodist roof once more."

"Yes, thank God! that's what I am," Whaley said. "My wife is, too. I'll
show you our meeting-house when we pass it. I've got a Bible-class. It
is the biggest in the county--twenty-