he included Cuff in the general remark, "ain't sot 'bout
reaching The Gap at any 'pinted time, I'll scrooge you in. There's a
couple of stops to make, and I reckon I'll have to dig us-all out of
holes now and then--that shovel ain't in yo' way, is it, Miss?" he
asked.

For Joan and Cuff were already among the mail bags and merchandise.

"Nothing is in the way!" Joan replied, "and I'll help you dig us out."

It was just daylight when they started.

It was past noon when, stiff and rather shaken, Joan scrambled out of
the old car and, followed by Cuff, noiselessly made her way over the
lawn to Ridge House.

She went lightly up the steps, then stood still. Doris Fletcher lay
sleeping in the full, warm glow. So quiet was she, so pale and delicate,
that for a moment Joan knew a fear that had had its beginning when
Patricia passed from life.

The awful uncertainty, the narrow pass over which all travel, were newly
realized perils to Joan, and her breath came sharp and quick.

So this was what had happened while she was learning her lessons! She
had not learned alone.

"Oh! Aunt Dorrie," she murmured. "You and I have paid and paid--but you
never held me back!"

Joan sat down and waited. It was always to be so with her from now on.
In that hour a great and tender patience was born that was to calm and
guide her future life. She was given, then and there, to draw upon the
strength and vision that do not err. And it may have been that in sleep
Doris Fletcher, too, was prepared, for when suddenly she opened her eyes
upon Joan she was not startled: a gladness that was almost painful
overspread her face.

"My darling! You have come at last!" was what she said.

And, as on that night when she had come to plead for freedom, Joan did
not, now, rush into human touch. She nodded and whispered:

"I've come as I promised to, Aunt Dorrie. It--it wasn't my chance! Not
my big chance, anyhow, but I had to find out, dearie."

"My little girl!"

Joan went nearer; she bent and kissed again and again that radiant face;
then, sitting on the floor by the couch, with Cuff huddled close, she
touched lightly the high peaks that lay between the parting and this
home-coming, but Doris, with that deep understanding, followed
laboriously, silently, through the dark valleys.

"I'm rather battered and cropped, Aunt Dorrie--but here I am!"

With this Joan tossed off her hat and voluminous coat.

"Your--hair, Joan? Your beautiful hair!"