uiet Mill yard it came upon him with a shock of pain that with
the old life he had done forever. He felt himself already detached
from it. The new self looking out upon its new world had shaken off his
boyhood as the bursting leaf shakes off the husks of spring.

As Dick's gay exclamation of delight at sight of the old home fell upon
his ear a deeper pain struck him, for he vaguely felt that while his
brother still held his place in the centre of the stage, that stage had
immeasurably extended and was now peopled with other figures, shadowy,
it is true, but there, and influential. His brother, who with his
mother, or, indeed, perhaps more than his mother, had absorbed his
boyish devotion, must henceforth share that devotion with others. Upon
this thought his brother's voice broke in.

"What's the matter, old chap? Is there anything wrong?"

The kindly tone stabbed like a knife.

"No, no. Nothing, Dick."

"Yes, but there is. You're not the same." At the anxious appeal in the
voice Barney stood for a moment steadily regarding his brother, for whom
he could easily give his life, with a troubled sense of change that he
could not analyse to himself, much less explain to his brother.

"I don't know, Dick--I can't tell you--I don't think I am the same." A
look of startled dismay fell swiftly down upon the frank, handsome face
turned toward him.

"Have I done anything, Barney?" said the younger boy, his dismay showing
in his tone.

"No, no, Dick, boy, it has nothing to do with you." He put his hands on
his brother's shoulders, the nearest thing to an embrace he ever allowed
himself. "It is in myself; but to you, my boy, I am the same." His
speech came now hurriedly and with difficulty: "And whatever comes to
me or to you, Dick, remember I shall never change to you--remember
that, Dick, to you I shall never change." His breath was coming in quick
gasps. The younger boy gazed at his usually so undemonstrative brother.
Suddenly he threw his arms about his neck, crying in a broken voice,
"You won't, Barney, I know you won't. If you ever do I don't want to
live."

For a single moment Barney held the boy in his arms, patting his
shoulder gently, then, pushing him back, said impatiently, "Well, I am
a blamed old fool, anyway. What in the diggins is the matter with me,
I don't know. I guess I want supper, nothing to eat since noon. But all
the same, Dick," he added in a steady, matter-of-fact tone, "we must
expect many chang