and the two eyed each
other with wide, penetrating gaze.

Tough Pine, the guide, finding himself discovered, grinned sheepishly; he
was loathing himself for being taken off guard, and muttered:

"Me share fire? me helped keep it."

Farwell raised himself on his elbow, all the light and courage gone from
his face. It was the old story, the dream of freedom and--the prison
bars!

"Where are you going?" he asked, though he knew full well.

"Where--you go? There, Pine go! Pine--good friend and good guide."

They questioned each other no more. Farwell finished his errand in dull
fashion, bought his goods, found a letter, long waiting him, read all the
papers he could lay hands on, and then set his face toward Kenmore. And
that winter he devoted himself as he never had before to the simple
people who were the means of keeping him sane.

Upon this newly restricted and devastated horizon Priscilla Glenn loomed
large and vital. With Nathaniel's loosened rein and Theodora's restored
faith, the girl developed wonderfully. Farwell made no more objection to
her dancing or her flights of fancy. He fiddled for her and fed the flame
of her imagination. She was the sunniest creature he had ever known;
the bleak life of Lonely Farm had spurred her to greater lengths of
self-defence; nothing could daunt her. She had an absorbing curiosity
about life, out and beyond the Kenmore confines; and more to keep his own
memory clear than to satisfy Priscilla, Farwell set himself to the task
of educating the girl in ways that would have appalled Nathaniel and
reduced Theodora again to tears and apprehension.

The bare room of the master's house was the stage upon which were set, in
turn, the scenes of distant city life. Vicariously Priscilla learned the
manners of a "real lady" under the most trying circumstances. Farwell
told her of plays, operas, and, over his deal table, they chatted in
brilliant restaurants. They walked gay streets and stood bewildered
before flashing shop windows. It was all dangerous, but fascinating, and
in the playing of the game Farwell grew old and drawn, while Priscilla
gradually came into her Heart's Desire of delight.

"My Road!" she proudly thought. "My Road!"

The old poem was recalled and was often repeated like a litany, while
life became more and more vital and thrilling with dull Kenmore as a
background and setting.

Just about this time Jerry-Jo took to wearing his Sunday suit on week
days, thus pr