' in alone in the
dark."

"Bless ye! ye'd not be alone." Patsy's voice rang vibrant with
gladness. "Now, who do you think will be watching for ye, close to
the gate? Look yonder!"

Joseph's eyes went back to the candles, splendid, tall columns they
were, with beacon lamps capping each. "Who?"

Dim faces looked at him through the flickering light; but there was
only one he saw, and it brought the merriest smile to his lips.

"Why--'course it's mother--sure's shootin'!"

* * * * *

Early the next morning Patsy waited on the braided rug outside the
spare chamber for Joseph's mother to come out.

"I've been praying ye'd not hate me for the tale I told the little
lad that day, the tale that brought him--yonder. And if it isn't
overlate, I'd like to be thanking ye for taking me in that night."

The woman looked at her searchingly through swollen lids. "I cal'ate
there's no thanks due; your man paid for your keep; he sawed and
split nigh a cord o' wood that night--must ha' taken him 'most till
mornin'." She paused an instant. "Didn't--he"--she nodded her head
toward the closed door behind her--"never tell you what brought him?"

"Naught but that he wanted to find me."

"He believed in you," the woman said, simply, adding in a toneless
voice: "I cal'ate I couldn't hate you. I never saw any one make death
so--sweet like--as you done for--him."

Patsy spread her hands deprecatingly. "Why shouldn't it be sweet
like? Faith! is it anything but a bit of the very road we've been
traveling since we were born, the bit that lies over the hill and out
of sight?" She took the woman's work-worn hands in hers. "'Tis
terrible, losing a little lad; but 'tis more terrible never having
one. God and Mary be with ye!"

When Patsy left the house a few minutes later Joseph's pilgrim staff
was in her hands, and she stopped on the threshold an instant to ask
the way of Joseph's father.

The good man was dazed with his grief and he directed Patsy in terms
of his own home-going: "Keep on, and take the first turn to your
right."

So Patsy kept on instead of returning to the cross-roads; and chance
scored another point in his comedy and continued chuckling.

* * * * *

Meanwhile Joseph's father went back to the spare chamber.

"'S she gone?" inquired Joseph's mother.

"Yep."

"You know, the boy believed in her."

"Yep, I know."

"Well, I cal'ate we've got to, too."