ontinued, and they met.

Harry Lawton had known Eudora at once. She looked the same to him as
when she had been a girl, and he looked the same to her when he spoke.

"Hullo, Eudora," said Harry Lawton, in a ludicrously boyish fashion. His
face flushed, too, like a boy. He extended his hand like a boy. The man,
seen near at hand, was a boy. In reality he himself had not changed. A
few layers of flesh and a change of color-cells do not make another man.
He had always been a simple, sincere, friendly soul, beloved of men and
women alike, and he was that now. Eudora held out her hand, and her eyes
fell before the eyes of the man, in an absurd fashion for such a stately
creature as she. But the man himself acted like a great happy overgrown
school-boy.

"Hullo, Eudora," he said again.

"Hullo," said she, falteringly.

It was inconceivable that they should meet in such wise after the years
of separation and longing which they had both undergone; but each took
refuge, as it were, in a long-past youth, even childhood, from the
fierce tension of age. When they were both children they had been
accustomed to pass each other on the village street with exactly such
salutation, and now both reverted to it. The tall, regal woman in her
India shawl and the stout, middle-aged man had both stepped back to
their vantage-ground of springtime to meet.

However, after a moment, Eudora reasserted herself. "I only heard a
short time ago that you were here," she said, in her usual even voice.
The fair oval of her face was as serene and proud toward the man as the
face of the moon.

The man swung his umbrella, then began prodding the ground with it.
"Hullo, Eudora," he said again; then he added: "How are you, anyway?
Fine and well?"

"I am very well, thank you," said Eudora. "So you have come home to
Wellwood after all this time?"

The man made an effort and recovered himself, although his handsome face
was burning.

"Yes," he remarked, with considerable ease and dignity, to which he
had a right, for Harry Lawton had not made a failure of his life, even
though it had not included Eudora and a fulfilled dream.

"Yes," he continued, "I had some leisure; in fact, I have this spring
retired from business; and I thought I would have a look at the old
place. Very little changed I am happy to find it."

"Yes, it is very little changed," assented Eudora; "at least, it seems
so to me, but it is not for a life-long dweller in any place to j