hat, Ruth, if I replace them next
time I go to Marlborough."

"Well, so I do, except when thee does remind me. Is this a very hungry
angel, Joseph? Does thee think I'd better cook another chicken?"

"He ought to be hungry, poor lad, but I doubt if he eats much. Does thee
remember friend Randolph, Ruth?"

"Of course I do. But he's been dead these ten years. Thee doesn't mean
he's come back to breakfast with us?"

Her husband put his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. Then he
kissed her. "Thee is fractious this morning, Ruth. Friend Randolph had a
son, thee dost mind, whom Robert Hawthorne took to live at Hollywood. It
is he whom the good Lord has sent to us to care for, Ruth. He's just
been turned adrift."

"If thee wasn't so big I would shake thee, Joseph! The idea of John
Randolph being in this house and thee beating round the bush with thine
angels!" and with all her motherhood shining in her eyes, Ruth Makepeace
started for the parlor.

In spite of the overflowing kindness with which he was surrounded John
found the meal a hard one. He had been used to breakfast with little Nan
upon his knee.

"When thee is rested we'll have a talk, lad," said his host, as they
rose from the table; "but thee'd better bide with us for the summer and
not fret about the future: thee dost need a holiday."

"Of course thee dost, John!" said blithe little Mrs. Makepeace. "I wish
thee would bide for good."

Her husband laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Thou knowest, lad, there
is the little grave out yonder. Thee should'st have his place in our
hearts and home. Would'st thee be content to bide, John?"

John Randolph looked at his friends with shining eyes. "You have done me
good for life!" he said, "but the world calls me, I must go. I mean to
work my way through college, and be a physician, Mr. Makepeace."

"So! so! Well, we mustn't stand in the way, Ruth. Thee'll make a good
one, John. But how art thee going to manage it, lad?"

"The Steel Works in Marlborough pay good wages. I mean to get a place
there if I can, and study in the evenings."

"Why, John, lad, the Steel Works shut down yesterday afternoon."

For an instant the brave spirit quailed, only for an instant. "Then I
must find something else," he said quietly.

"It's a bad season, John, and the times are hard." Joseph Makepeace
thought for a moment. "There's friend Harris up the river. What dost
thee think, Ruth?"

"Why, he wants men to pile wood," excl