us a mental frame-up
of it."

"Glengyle? Yes. I can see the old place now, as plainly as a picture:
the green, dimpling hills all speckled with sheep; the grey house
nestling snugly in a grove of birch; the wild water of the burn leaping
from black pool to pool, just mad with the joy of life; the midges
dancing over the water in the still sunshine, and the trout jumping for
them--oh, it's the bonny, bonny place. You would think so too. You would
like it, tramping knee-deep in the heather, to see the moorcock rise
whirring at your feet; you would like to set sail with the fisher folk
after the silver herring. It would make you feel good to see the calm
faces of the shepherds, the peace in the eyes of the women. Ay, that was
the best of it all, the Rest of it, the calm of it. I was pretty happy
in those days."

"You were happy--then why not go back? That's your proper play; go back
to your Mother. She wants you. You're pretty well heeled now. A little
money goes a long way over there. You can count on thirty thousand.
You'll be comfortable; you'll devote yourself to the old lady; you'll be
happy again. Time's a regular steam-roller when it comes to smoothing
out the rough spots in the past. You'll forget it all, this place, this
girl. It'll all seem like the after effects of a midnight Welsh rabbit.
You've got mental indigestion. I hate to see you go. I'm really sorry to
lose you; but it's your only salvation, so go, go!"

Never had I thought of it before. Home! how sweet the word seemed.
Mother! yes, Mother would comfort me as no one else could. She would
understand. Mother and Garry! A sudden craving came over me to see them
again. Maybe with them I could find relief from this awful agony of
heart, this thing that I could scarce bear to think of, yet never ceased
to think of. Home! that was the solution of it all. Ah me! I would go
home.

"Yes," I said, "I can't go too soon; I'll start to-morrow."

So I rose and proceeded to gather together my few belongings. In the
early morning I would start out. No use prolonging the business of my
going. I would say good-bye to those two partners of mine, with a grip
of the hand, a tear in the eye, a husky: "Take care of yourself." That
would be all. Likely I would never see them again.

Jim came in and sat down quietly. The old man had been very silent of
late. Putting on his spectacles, he took out his well-worn Bible and
opened it. Back in Dawson there was a man whom he h