ed in the most glowing
words. Then the three walked to the porch and the bent little figure in
the chair. As they went up the steps together old Aunt Suse suddenly
straightened up and stood erect. A pair of extraordinary black eyes
were blazing from her ancient, wrinkled face. Her hand rose in a kind
of military salute, and looking straight at Harry she exclaimed in a
high-pitched but strong voice:

"Welcome, welcome, governor, to our house! It is a long time since I've
seen you, but I knew that you would come again!"

"Why, what's the matter, Aunt Suse?" asked Jarvis anxiously.

"It is he! The governor! Governor Ware!" she exclaimed. "He, who was
the great defender of the frontier against the Indians! But he looks
like a boy again! Yet I would have known him anywhere!"

The blazing eyes and tense voice of the old woman held Harry. She
pointed with a withered forefinger which she held aloft and he felt as
if an electric current were passing from it to him. A chill ran down
his back and the hair lifted a little on his head. Jarvis and his
nephew stood staring.

"Walk in, governor," she said. "This house is honored by your coming."

Then, and all in a flash, Harry understood. The mind of the old woman
dreaming in the sun had returned to the far past, and she was seeing
again with the eyes of her girlhood.

"I'm not Henry Ware, Aunt Susan," he said, "but I'm proud to say that
I'm his great-grandson. My name is Kenton, Harry Kenton."

The wrinkled forefinger sank, but the light in her eyes did not die.

"Henry Ware, Harry Kenton!" she murmured. "The same blood, and the
spirit is the same. It does not matter. Come into our house and rest
after your long journey."

Still erect, she stood on one side and pointed to the open door.
Jarvis laughed, but it was a laugh of relief rather than amusement.

"She shorely took you, Harry, for your great-grandfather, Henry Ware,
the mighty woodsman and Injun fighter that later on became governor
of the state. I guess you look as he did when he was near your age.
I've heard her tell tales about him by the mile. Aunt Suse, you know,
is more'n a hundred, an' she's got the double gift o' lookin' forrard
an' back'ard. Come on in, Harry, this house will belong to you now,
an' ef at times she thinks you're the great governor, or the boy that
Governor Ware was before he was governor, jest let her think it."

With the wrinkled forefinger still pointing a welcome t