! and promptly
marshalling her latest charge to bed.

Lights were out all along the street as Montgomery's passing whistle
disturbed the early naps of these quiet folk, who had been so greatly
interested and wearied by that day's unusual events. But the clear,
birdlike tones were comfort to one harassed wanderer.

Shivering in his wet rags, he crept out from the shelter of a porch to
hearken, as those boyish lips sent forth in flute-like tones the melody
of "Home, Sweet Home." Hearkening, he followed, fearing he should lose
the music which impressed him, all unknowing why; and as the whistler
left the last village house behind him and set out to run over the long
stretch of lonely road, which lay between that and the Mansion, the
follower also ran.

Had Montgomery known this his pace would have been even swifter than it
was, and the mere fear he now felt would have become abject terror.

But he did not know; and the unknown tramp soon lagged far behind. He
had neither strength nor desire left to overtake the fleeing lad, since
the whistling had ceased, and consciousness of his own misery returned
upon him. So, presently he left the highway and limped across the fields
toward the woods where instinct told him was safe hiding; and Montgomery
reached the stately home of his forefathers in good time. Between the
man and the boy there seemed no possible connection, yet circumstances
were already linking their lives together as with a chain.

CHAPTER XIV.

ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON

When Deacon Meakin found that a barn window had had to be broken because
of his forgetfulness to mention where he had put the keys, he insisted
upon paying for and inserting the new glass himself. This distressed
Miss Maitland and delighted Moses; but the new caretaker carried his
point, declaring:

"If I can't do that I'll throw up the job. My own hired men, 'fore I
moved in, had to pay for their breakin's, and sence I've turned myself
into a hired man, well, it's a poor rule that don't work both ways, as
the poet says, an' what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,
or visy versy. There'll be no foolin' done on these premises whilst I'm
in charge, an' the very first thing I'll tackle is--cleanin' up."

"Why, is that necessary? Beyond the work that comes with every day?
Surely, Moses is very neat," protested Eunice, on behalf of her old
disabled helper.

"Hm-m. There's neatness--an' neatness; an' my friend Jones, he's a