he began to prattle and tug at him. They saw his knees
bend a bit. Ah, sir, it seemed as if the baby were pulling him
down. He gently pushed the child away. They heard a little cry--a
kind of a wailing 'Oh-o-o,'--like that you hear in the chimney.
Then, sir, down he went in his tracks--a quivering little
heap,--and lay there at the foot of the tree. Polly and Trove were
bending over him. Cap and wig had fallen from his head. He was an
old man.

"'Father!' Trove whispered, touching the long white hair. 'O my
father! speak to me. Let me--let me see your face.'

"Slowly--slowly, the old man rose, Trove helping him, and put on
his cap. Then, sir, he took a step back and stood straight as a
king. He waved them away with his hand.

"'Nay, boy, remember,' he whispered. 'Ye were to let him pass.'
And then he started for the door.

"Trove went before him and stood against it.

"'Hear me, boy, 'tis better that ye let him sleep until the trumpet
calls an' ye both stand with all the quick an' the dead.'

"'No, I have waited long, and I love--I love him,' Trove answered.

"Those fair young people knelt beside the old man, clinging to his
hands.

"The good saint was crying.

"'I came not here to bring shame,' said he presently.

"'We honour and with all our souls we love you,' Trove answered.

"'Who shall stand before it?' said the old man. 'Behold--behold
how Love hath raised the dead!' He flung off his cap and beard.

"'If ye will have it so, know ye that I--Roderick Darrel--am thy
father.'"

"Now, sir, you may go. I wish ye merry Christmas!" said that old
man of the hills.

But the other tarried, thoughtfully puffing his pipe.

"And the father was not dead?"

"'Twas only the living death," said the old man, now lighting a
lantern. "You know that grave in a poem of Sidney Trove:

'It has neither sod nor stone;
It has neither dust nor bone.'

He planned to be as one dead to the world."

"And the other man of mystery--who was he?"

"Some child of misfortune. He was befriended by the tinker and did
errands for him."

"He took the money to Trove that night the latter slept in the
woods?"

"And, for Darrel, returned to Thompson his own with usury.
Thompson was the chief creditor."

"With usury?"

"Yes; for years it lay under the bed of Darrel. By and by he put
the money in a savings bank--all but a few dollars."

"And why did he wait so long, before returning it?"

"He tried t