urse I'm not one of those unfortunates," he added quickly, "for I
have many friends, and am making new ones daily; but that is the
atmosphere I live in fifty weeks of the year. Do you wonder that it gets
on my nerves at times, and that I long to run away from it all and get
into the big, open spaces in the warm heart of friendly nature?

"Do you think that I can ever feel lonesome in the forest and fields,
with living things always about me which are ready to share themselves
with me?"

"I reckon I haint never thought uv thet. This hyar mountain country
air's whar I hev lived in contentment all my life, an' I allows thet
hit's good ernough fer me ter keep on livin' in, twill I dies."

Rose remained silent, although obviously disturbed by Donald's words;
but, before she could voice her thoughts, another figure quietly joined
the group--a tall, stooping man, clean shaven, and with an aesthetic
countenance seemingly out of its natural environment.

"Why, it's my minister man," cried Rose joyfully. "Wherever did you come
from?"

"My wanderings brought me close home, and I could not pass by without
calling on my two good friends in Webb's Gap."

"An' we air downright glad fer ter see ye, reverend," answered the host.
"This hyar air the doctor man from the city, what leetle Rose hes told
ye so much erbout."

Donald already felt drawn to the strange divine, their common interest
in the girl acting as a lode-stone, and he clasped his hand with
friendly pressure. The other returned it less vigorously, but no less
sincerely, and Donald experienced a peculiar mesmeric thrill which
startled him a little.

"Perhaps I should apologize," began Mr. Talmadge in a low voice, the
timbre of which still retained the resonance of early culture. "I came
on this happy scene--or at least to the corner of the house--while you
were speaking of life in the city, and I could not very well help
pausing and listening.

"I know your feelings only too well, Dr. MacDonald. I was born, bred and
worked in New York until my health became undermined by just such
influences as you mentioned; and I was forced to run away, too, and seek
the hills 'whence cometh my help.'"

"And deep in your inner consciousness you don't regret the change, do
you?" asked Donald.

"No. Perhaps I am selfish--a shirker--and there are times when the old
call to get back where I know that the need is greatest comes like a
clarion. But for myself, the disaster--which on