the cliff face of the great rock. He came on her suddenly at the
end of the long climb up the wooded slopes, at a moment
when--semi-tropical growth having had two full seasons in which to
change the natural aspect of things--he was half-bewildered with the
unwonted look of the place. But there was no doubt about it; it was Nan
in the flesh, a little fuller in the figure, something less childish in
the face, but with all the fascinating, wild-creature beauty of the
child-time promise to dazzle the eye and breed riot in the brain of the
boy-man.

When she stood up with a little cry of pleased surprise, the dark eyes
lighting quick joy-fires, and the welcoming blush mounting swiftly to
neck and cheek, Tom thought she was the most alluring thing he had ever
looked on. Yet the bottom stone in the wall of recrudescent admiration
was the certainty that he had found a sympathetic ear.

"Did you know I was coming? Were you waiting for me, Nan?" he bubbled,
gazing into the great black eyes as eagerly as a freed dog plunges into
the first pool that offers.

"How could I be knowin' to it?" she asked, taking him seriously, or
appearing to. "I nev' knowed school let out this time o' year."

"It's let out for me, Nan," he said meaningly. "I came home--for
good--nearly three weeks ago. My mother has been sick. Didn't you hear
of it?"

She shook her head gravely.

"I hain't been as far as Paradise sence paw and me moved back from Pine
Knob, two months ago. I don't hear nothin' any more."

In times long past, Tom, valley-born and of superior clay, used to be
scornful of the mountain dialect. Now, on Nan's lips, it charmed him.
It was blessedly reminiscent of the care-free days of yore.

"Say, Nan; I hope you haven't got to hurry home," he interposed, when
she stooped to lift the overflowing bucket. "I want to talk to you--to
tell you something."

She looked up quickly, and there were scrolls unreadable in the black
eyes.

"Air you a man now, Tom-Jeff, or on'y a boy like you used to be?" she
asked.

Tom squared his broad shoulders and laughed.

"I'm big enough to be in my own way a good deal of the time. I believe I
could muddy Sim Cantrell's back for him now, at arm-holts."

But there was still a question in the black eyes.

"Where's your preacher's coat, Tom-Jeff? I was allowin' you'd be wearin'
it nex' time we met up."

"I reckon there isn't going to be any preacher's coat for me, Nan;
that's one of the things I wa