now that?" demanded Bert, in bewilderment.

"Don't you know me?" was the unexpected rejoinder.

He drew nearer to the bed, and Bert gazed at him earnestly, but no light
dawned upon him.

"No, I don't know you," he said, shaking his head.

"I am Silas Wilson's son," said the stranger.

"Phineas Wilson?"

Now Bert remembered that eight years before, the farmer's son, a man
grown, had left Lakeville, and, so far as he knew, had not been heard of
since. He had contracted a habit of drinking and had tired of farm work.
Moreover, when he left, he had taken fifty dollars of his father's money
with him, which had led to bitter feelings on the part of the farmer,
who appeared to mourn the loss of his money more than that of his son.
And this was the young man who had crept into his father's house like a
thief in the night.

"Why did you get into my window?" asked Bert. "Why didn't you come to
the door?"

"I--didn't know if I would be welcome. I wanted to ask. Do you know how
my father feels toward me?"

"No; I have only been here one day. He ought to be glad to see his son."

"I took some money with me when I went away," said Phineas hesitating.
"Father's very fond of money."

"Yes," assented Bert.

"And he would find it hard to forget that."

"Why didn't you come back before?"

"I didn't dare to come till I could bring the money. I have got it with
me, but not a dollar more. If you want to know what brings me back, look
in my face and see for yourself."

The moon came out from behind a cloud, and by its light Bert saw that
the young man's face was thin and ghastly.

"I am sick," he said; "irregular hours and whiskey have done their work.
I am afraid I have got to pass in my checks."

"What does that mean--die?"

"Yes."

"Don't give up!" said Bert, feeling his sympathies go out toward this
prodigal son. "You are young. It takes a good deal to kill a young man."

"You're a good fellow, Bert. That's your name, isn't it? Will you do me
a favor?"

"To be sure I will."

"I am famished. I haven't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours. Can
you slip downstairs and fetch me something to eat--no matter what--and a
glass of milk?"

Bert hesitated. He could get what was required in the pantry, but
suppose the farmer or his wife should wake up! It would make his
position a very awkward one.

"Hadn't you better go down yourself?" he asked.

"I can hardly stand, I am so tired. Besides, I don't know where m