e, and with it the insistent chorus of tree-toad and
katydid, interspersed with the song of the vesper sparrow. From the
kitchen came the occasional rattle of dish or pan and the far-away
murmur of voices. Patsy strained her ears for some sound of car or
team upon the road; but there was none.

Again the lids fluttered and opened; this time Joseph smiled
triumphantly. "I thought--p'r'aps--I hadn't found you--after
all--there was--so many ways--you might ha' went." He moistened his
lips. "At the cross-roads--I wasn't quite--sure which to be takin',
but I took--the right one, I did--didn't I?"

There was a ring of pride in the words, and Patsy moistened her lips.
Something clutched at her throat that seemed to force the words back.
"Aye," she managed to say at last.

"An' I've--found you now--you'll have to--promise me not to go
back--not where they can get you. Si Perkins said--as how they'd soon
forget--if you just stayed away long enough." The boy looked at her
happily. "Let's--let's keep on--an' see what lies over the next
hill."

To Patsy this was all an unintelligible wandering of mind; she must
humor it. "All right, laddy, let's keep on. Maybe we'll be finding a
wood full of wild creatures, or an ocean full of ships."

"P'r'aps. But I'd rather--have it a big--big city. I never--saw a
city."

"Aye, 'tis a city then"--Patsy's tone carried conviction--"the
grandest city ever built; and the towers will be touching the clouds,
and the streets will be white as sea-foam; and there will be a great
stretch of green meadow for fairs--"

"An' circuses?"

"What else but circuses! And at the entrance there will be a gate
with tall white columns--"

The sound Patsy had been listening for came at last through the open
windows: the pad-pad-pad of horses' hoofs coming fast.

Joseph looked past Patsy and saw for the first time the candles by
his bed. His eyes sparkled. "They _are_--woppin' big columns--an' at
night--they have lighted lamps on top--all shinin'. Don't they?"

"Aye, to point the way in the dark."

"It's dark--now." The boy's voice lagged in a tired fashion.

"Maybe we'd best hurry--then."

A door slammed below, and there was a rustle of tongues.

"Who'll be 'tendin' the city gates?" asked Joseph.

"Who but the gatekeeper?"

Muffled feet crept up the stairs.

"Will he let us in?"

"He'll let ye in, laddy; I might be too much of a stranger."

"But I could speak for you. I--I wouldn't like--goin