That was my idea," said Caleb.

And then, slowly, the boy's head dropped again, as it had when he bowed
to gaze at his uncouth, begrimed clothes. The man thought that he
caught the inference of that moment of silence.

"We can fix up the matter of clothes later," he made haste to forestall
any objection in that direction. "That doesn't amount to anything,
anyway."

The clear eyes lifted again, steady and wide and very, very grave.

"I always knowed it was comin'," said Stephen O'Mara. "I always knowed
it was a-comin'--this chance--even when I didn't know _haow_ it would
come. Ner I wa'n't thinkin' about my clothes. I reckon I kin learn
jest as fast in these as in any. I was jest thinkin' about Miss Sarah.
She--she might not like it, hevin' two men folks a-raound the house,
under foot."

It was Caleb's turn to stand, agape.

"Miss Sarah?" he faltered, astonished--and then he remembered. He
laughed, unsteadily, with relief. For an instant he had been
inexplicably afraid that the boy was going to refuse his offer.

"Why, you musn't mind what Sarah said yesterday," he rushed on.
"She--she--well, she's a Baptist, Steve, and you know what that means."

He leaned forward a little, his voice quite stealthily confidential.

"But I can fix that all right," he promised. "I can surely fix that.
For I'll tell her--I'll tell her you're a Baptist, too! Will you--will
you stay?"

And after a time solemnly Steve nodded. Later, when alone, Caleb
chuckled mountainously over his reply.

"Thet's--thet's what I cal'late I be," he said.

CHAPTER V

THEN I'LL COME BACK TO YOU

On the drive home Wednesday Caleb rehearsed a half score of speeches
with which he might apprise his sister Sarah of the step he had taken;
but when the time came for him to employ one of them, he forgot the
entire lot and had to resort to a bald and stammered statement of the
facts, which sounded more like a confession of guilt than anything
else. It had grown colder with the storm and directly after a hastily
swallowed supper, with many indignant glances for her brother, Sarah
had bundled the boy off upstairs to bed, for he had come in out of the
rain as sleekly wet as a water-rat, and blue-fingered and blue-lipped
from cold. So it happened that they were alone before the fireplace
when Caleb made known his decision.

"I've never done much of anything for anybody but myself, you know,
Sarah," Caleb hesitatingly tried to account for