Steve did not come downstairs for supper that night, and when he failed
to appear at the breakfast hour, both Caleb and Sarah mounted to his
room, fear in their hearts. The bed had not been slept in; the sheets
were not even disarranged, but there was a scrap of paper pinned to one
pillow-slip. It wasn't written in "book language"--that short
message--for it was not his brain, but his heart, which had phrased it:

I'm a-comin' back--I'm comin' back to you, someday when they won't be
no need fer you to be ashamed fer me. I'm takin' my new clothes with
me because I knowed you would a-wanted me to--and the shoes, too. I'm
askin' you to take keer of Ole Samanthy til I come fer her--and Miss
Sarah ain't got no call to worry, fer I could always take keer o'
myself.

It was signed "Stephen O'Mara."

Sarah's face went white when she had read it through. Her knees
weakened under her and she had to sit down.

"Why, Cal--why, Cal, he's--he's gone," she quavered.

And Caleb nodded down into her stricken face.

"Yes--he--he's gone," he breathed.

Sarah swallowed hard. Then two bright tears crept out from under her
eyelids and went coursing down her cheeks. She rose and groped her way
to her own room.

Caleb found Barbara Allison waiting in the living-room when he, still
numb from the shock, went back downstairs. She came up to him and
stood a moment, twisting the fingers of one hand within those of the
other.

"I want to see Stephen, please, Uncle Cal," she faltered.

Caleb drew a deep and unsteady breath.

"Steve isn't here, Barbara," he said as gently as he could.

The child didn't understand.

"Father sent me over to apologize," she explained slowly. "I'm to tell
him that I'm sorry. But I--I want to tell him, too, that if I couldn't
have him for my knight--I--I wouldn't ever have any knight at all!"

Caleb felt a tightening at his throat which made speech difficult.

"But Steve has gone away," he managed to gulp.

A shadow came into the big dark eyes lifted to his.

"He'll be back for breakfast, won't he?" she asked, hopefully.

"I'm afraid not, Barbara. I'm afraid now that he may never come
back--again."

She didn't understand what he meant at first, so Caleb tried to
explain. But when his voice broke and trailed off into a husky whisper
there was no further need of explanation. She ran then and threw
herself in a passion of tears upon a window-seat in the corner. Caleb
found his chair