a kindly hand upon his trembling mouth, and a pause
came in his troubled life. It was not sleep, nor was it faintness that
struck like death the frightened boy--but an oblivion, from which he
issued clear-headed and strengthened.

When he again realized his surroundings he was cramped and cold, and
hungry as a wolf. From below two deep, unmusical snores rose
comfortingly. There was but one thing to do--and Billy must prepare for
it.

He ate every crumb of food that remained in his bag; then he rubbed
himself until his numbness lessened. At last he was ready to set forth
for St. Ange, and, be it forever to his glory, Billy the Redeemed, had
only Joyce in mind when his grim little freckled face once more turned
toward home!

Christmas, the joys of the bungalow, all, all were forgotten. It was a
big and an awful thing he had on hand, but he must carry it out to the
end. Floating gossip gained strength in Billy's memory as he trudged
through the black morning of that second hard day.

Childhood was not much considered in St. Ange, but childhood protects
itself to a certain degree, and Billy had never fully understood what
the gossip about Joyce had meant. All at once he seemed to have become a
man; and, oh! thank God, a man with a warm heart. A kinship of suffering
and hope with Joyce made him wondrous tender. He'd stand by her. They
should all see what he could do. And that hated Jared Birkdale should be
driven forever from St. Ange.

It was a long, dreary journey which Billy took that day. The plentiful
morning meal had beggared the future, but it had given the boy power to
start well.

With daylight and home in view, although at a dim distance, Billy felt
that he controlled Fate.

It would be some days before Jared could possibly get the letter to
Joyce. Long before it came he, Billy, would be on the spot, and nothing
could pass unnoticed before his eyes.

At eight o'clock of that second day, the boy, worn to the verge of
exhaustion, staggered into his mother's kitchen, and almost frightened
Peggy to death by simply announcing:

"I've cut, and I'll be eternally busted if I ever go back, so there! And
I'm starved."

With the latter information Peggy could deal; the former was beyond her.
She prepared a satisfying repast for her son; noting, as she hovered
over him, the change that had come. He was no longer a child, therefore
he was to be respected. An awe possessed Peggy. The awe of Man as she
had ever know