rouble with Barney. Sarah, she wouldn't
let me come home any sooner. I was dreadful upset about it."

"I've been meaner than sin, an' I don't know as it makes it any
better, because I couldn't seem to help it," said Richard Alger. "I
didn't forget you a single minute, Sylvia, an' I was awful sorry for
you, an' there wasn't a Sabbath night that I didn't want to come more
than I wanted to go to Heaven! But I couldn't, I couldn't nohow. I've
always had to travel in tracks, an' no man livin' knows how deep a
track he's in till he gets jolted out of it an' can't get back. But
I've got into a track now, an' I'll die before I get out of it. There
ain't any use in your lookin' at me, Sylvia, but if you can make up
your mind to have me, I'll try my best, an' do all I can to make it
all up to you in the time that's left."

"I'm afraid you've had a dreadful hard time, livin' alone so long,
an' tryin' to do for yourself," said Sylvia, pitifully.

"I'm glad I have," replied Richard, grimly.

He clasped Sylvia closer; her best bonnet was all crushed against his
breast. He looked around over her head, as if searching for
something.

"Where's the sofa gone?" he asked.

"I gave it to Rose for a weddin' present. I thought I shouldn't ever
need it," Sylvia murmured.

"Well, I've got one, it ain't any matter," said Richard.

He moved towards the rocking-chair, drawing Sylvia gently along with
him.

"Sit down, Sylvia," said he, softly.

"No, you sit down in the rocking-chair, Richard," said Sylvia. She
reached out and pulled a flag-bottomed chair close and sat down
herself. Richard sat in the rocking-chair.

Sylvia untied her bonnet, took it off, and straightened it. Richard
watched her. "I want you to have a white bonnet," said he.

"I'm too old, Richard," Sylvia replied, blushing.

"No, you ain't," he said, defiantly; "you've got to have a white
bonnet."

Sylvia looked in his face--and indeed hers looked young enough for a
white bonnet; it flushed and lit up, like an old flower revived in a
new spring.

Richard leaned over towards her, and the two old lovers kissed each
other. Richard moved his chair close to hers, and Sylvia felt his arm
coming around her waist. She sat still. "Put your head down on my
shoulder," whispered Richard.

And Sylvia laid her head on Richard's shoulder. She felt as if she
were dreaming of a dream.

Chapter XIII

When Richard Alger went home he wore an old brown shawl of Sylvia's