n they
took a walk, hand in hand, after which Celia discovered that she was
hungry and a raid was made upon the pantry. Perhaps nothing so
conclusively proved the completeness of Joel's subordination as the
overthrow of his dietetic theories. The first course of their meal was
bread and molasses and it wound up with honey and ginger snaps.

By this time the sun had taken full possession of the front piazza, and
Joel pulled his chair around to the shady north side of the house and
sat there in after-dinner tranquillity while Celia played about on the
lawn. Joel's eyes followed every movement of the quaint little figure.
He remembered with wonder that other people thought Betty the prettier
of the two girls. To him that small piquant face with the unruly hair,
the straight black brows and the wonderful kindling eyes, embodied all
that was beautiful. His selfish middle-aged heart ached under the
strain of accommodating this wealth of sweet swelling tenderness.

Celia had wandered across the grass toward the clump of maples which
once had shaded the big barn erected in Joel's youth and never rebuilt
after the fire. She turned to kiss her hand, and he kissed his back,
the first time in a matter of some five and thirty years that his
dignity had so unbent. The realization that the act would prove highly
diverting to his neighbors caused him to glance anxiously toward the
road. But the white ribbon of dust was undisturbed by vehicles, and
his mind relieved, he looked again for Celia.

A full half minute he stared incredulously, looking this way and that,
wavering between startled apprehension and a conviction of his own
folly. For Celia was nowhere to be seen. The grass over which her
little feet had twinkled as he turned his head, rippled in the wind and
gave no sign. The child had not had time to reach the trees, behind,
whose trunks her slight form might easily be concealed. And then as
Joel told himself that he was a fool, a faint wailing cry brought him
to his feet.

He was running before he had time to formulate his fear. And then a
startling memory spurred him to more desperate haste. He recalled the
old well by the barn, boarded over years before and later so concealed
by the encroachment of grass and weeds that its very existence had been
forgotten. But time had taken its toll even from the stubborn oak, and
at last it had yielded under a child's light weight. Joel knew it as
he ran, but the sight