m. Gradually the spell passed.

"Mother--maybe I'm starved," he said, smiling at her.

That practical speech released the strain and inspired his mother to
action. She began to bustle round the kitchen, talking all the while.
Lane watched her and listened, and spoke occasionally. Once he asked
about his sister Lorna, but his mother either did not hear or chose
not to reply. All she said was music to his ears, yet not quite what
his heart longed for. He began to distrust this strange longing. There
was something wrong with his mind. His faculties seemed too sensitive.
Every word his mother uttered was news, surprising, unusual, as if it
emanated from a home-world that had changed. And presently she dropped
into complaint at the hard times and the cost of everything.

"Mother," he interrupted, "I didn't blow my money. I've saved nearly a
year's pay. It's yours."

"But, Daren, you'll need money," she protested.

"Not much. And maybe--I'll be strong enough to go to work--presently,"
he said, hopefully. "Do you think Manton will take me back--half days
at first?"

"I have my doubts, Daren," she replied, soberly. "Hattie Wilson has
your old job. And I hear they're pleased with her. Few of the boys got
their places back."

"Hattie Wilson!" exclaimed Lane. "Why, she was a kid in the eighth
grade when I left home."

"Yes, my son. But that was nearly three years ago. And the children
have sprung up like weeds. Wild weeds!"

"Well! That tousle-headed Wilson kid!" mused Lane. An uneasy
conviction of having been forgotten dawned upon Lane. He remembered
Blair Maynard's bitter prophecy, which he had been unable to accept.

"Anyway, Daren, are you able to work?" asked his mother.

"Sure," he replied, lying cheerfully, with a smile on his face. "Not
hard work, just yet, but I can do something."

His mother did not share his enthusiasm. She went on preparing the
supper.

"How do you manage to get along?" inquired Lane.

"Lord only knows," she replied, sombrely. "It has been very hard. When
you left home I had only the interest on your father's life insurance.
I sold the farm--"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Lane, with a rush of boyhood memories.

"I had to," she went on. "I made that money help out for a long time.
Then I--I mortgaged this place.... Things cost so terribly. And Lorna
had to have so much more.... But she's just left school and gone to
work. That helps."

"Lorna left school!" ejaculated Lane, incredulously. "