ped from his shaking
hand; his face was ashen. Emlie and Wiggins stared at each other as if
they had taken leave of their senses. Joel Quimber leaned forward, his
hands folded on the head of his cane, and spoke to Octavius who sat
rigid on his chair:

"What'd he say, Tave?--Champ to home?"

But Octavius Buzzby was beyond the power of speech. Augustus spoke for
him:

"He said a man applied for work in the sheds this afternoon, Uncle Jo,
who wrote his name Louis C. Googe."

"Thet's him--thet's Champ--Champ's to home. You help me inter my coat,
Tave, I 'm goin' to see ef's true--" He rose with difficulty. Then
Octavius spoke; his voice shook:

"No, Uncle Jo, you sit still a while; if it's Champney, we can't none of
us see him to-night." He pushed him gently into his chair.

The Colonel was rousing himself. He stepped to the telephone and called
up Father Honore.

"Father Honore--

"This is Colonel Caukins. Can you tell me if there is any truth in the
report that Champney Googe has returned to-day?

"Thank God."

He put up the receiver, but still remained standing.

"Gentlemen," he said to the manager and the Upper Quarry guest, his
voice was thick with emotion and the tears of thankfulness were coursing
down his cheeks, "perhaps no greater gift could be bestowed on my
sixty-fifth birthday than Champney Googe's return to his home--his
mother--his friends--we are all his friends. Perhaps the years are
beginning to tell on me, but I feel that I must excuse myself to you and
go home--I want to tell my wife. I will explain all to you, as strangers
among us, some other time; for the present I must beg your
indulgence--joy never kills, but I am experiencing the fact that it can
weaken."

"That's all right, Colonel," said the manager; "we understand it
perfectly and it's late now."

"I'll go, too, Colonel," said Octavius; "I'm going to take Uncle Jo home
in the trap."

Luigi Poggi helped the Colonel into his great coat. When he left the
room with his prospective father-in-law, his handsome face had not
regained the color it lost upon the first mention of Champney's name.

Emlie and Wiggins remained a few minutes to explain as best they could
the situation to the stranger guests, and the cause of the excitement.

"I remember now hearing about this affair; I read it in the
newspapers--it must have been seven or eight years ago."

"Six years and four months." Mr. Wiggins corrected him.

"I guess it'll be just