on of youth! But I've had my lesson. I'll never
be old again, never!"

In spite of himself the professor's straight mouth curved a little. A
spark of pride glowed in his cool eyes as he bent them upon the smiling
face of his friend. Yet his tone was mocking as he said, "Then it is the
fountain of youth? One is never too old to find that chimera."

"It's not something that I've found, old cynic. It's something that I've
lost. Look at me hard! Don't you notice something missing? Did you ever
read the 'Pilgrim's Progress'?"

"The Pilgrim's--"

"Breakfast is ready!" called Ann, teetering on her toes in the doorway.

"The Pil--"

"And Aunt--says--will--you--please--come--at--once--so's--the
coff--ee--won't--be--cold!" chanted Ann.

"Yes, Ann. We're coming."

"But I want to know--"

"Old man, I'll tell you after breakfast. I want you to see me eat. I
wish to demonstrate that there is no deception. A miracle has really
happened. No one could observe me breakfasting and doubt it!"

When they were seated he looked guilelessly into the still disapproving
face of Mrs. Sykes. "Perhaps you are wondering, as I did, what has
brought Professor Willits back to Coombe," he said, "but time and space
mean little to professors, and the fact is that Willits has long wished
to hear a sermon by the Reverend Mr. Macnair. He is coming with me this
morning. Perhaps you hadn't better mention it, though. It might disturb
Mr. Macnair to know that so eminent a critic was listening to him."

The eminent critic frowned grimly and took a fourth cream biscuit
without noticing it.

"Not a mite!" declared Mrs. Sykes. "The man ain't born that can fluster
Mr. Macnair. Nor yet the woman, unless it's Esther Coombe--Land sakes,
Doctor! I forgot to tell you how that cup tips! Ann, get a clean table
napkin. I hope your nice white pants ain't ruined, Doctor? I really
ought to put that cup away but it's a good cup if it's held steady and I
hate to waste good things. Last time it tipped was when the Ladies' Aid
met here. Mrs. Coombe had it and the whole cup spilled right over her
dress. I was that mortified! But she didn't seem to care. I can't
imagine what's the matter with that woman. She's getting dreadful
careless about her clothes. Next time I met her she wore that same
dress, splash an' all! 'Tisn't as if she hadn't plenty of new
things,--more than they can afford, if what folks say is true. You
haven't met Mrs. Coombe yet, have you, Doctor?"