do, some time in early July;
comes up from the city without announcing himself in advance; and,
leaving the old coach, which still makes its periodical trips from the
river, a mile out from the town, strolls along the highway. He remembers
well the old outline of the hills; and the straggling hedge-rows, the
scattered granite boulders, the whistling of a quail from a near fence
in the meadow, all recall the old scenes which he knew in boyhood. At a
solitary house by the wayside a flaxen-haired youngster is blowing off
soap-bubbles into the air,--with obstreperous glee whenever one rises
above the house-tops,--while the mother, with arms akimbo, looks
admiringly from the open window. It was the home to which the feet of
Adele had latterly so often wandered.

Maverick is anxious for a word with the Doctor before his interview with
Adele even. He does not know her present home; but he is sure he can
recall the old parsonage, in whose exterior, indeed, there have been no
changes for years. The shade of the embowering elms is grateful as he
strolls on into the main street of the town. It is early afternoon, and
there are few passers-by. Here and there a blind is coyly turned, and a
sly glance cast upon the stranger. A trio of school-boys look
wonderingly at his foreign air and dress. A few loiterers upon the
tavern steps--instructed, doubtless, by the stage-driver, who has duly
delivered his portmanteau--remark upon him as he passes.

And now at last he sees the old porch,--the diamond lights in the door.
Twenty and more years ago, and he had lounged there, as the pretty
Rachel drove up in the parson's chaise. The same rose-brier is nodding
its untrimmed boughs by the door. From the open window above he catches
a glimpse of a hard, thin face, with spectacles on nose, that scans him
curiously. The Doctor's hat and cane are upon the table at the foot of
the stairs within. He taps with his knuckles upon the study-door,--and
again the two college mates are met together. At sight of the visitor,
whom he recognizes at a glance, the heart of the old man is stirred by a
little of the old youthful feeling.

"Maverick!" and he greets him with open hand.

"Johns, God bless you!"

The parson was white-haired, and was feeble to a degree that shocked
Maverick; while the latter was still erect and prim, and, with his gray
hair carefully brushed to conceal his growing baldness, appeared in
excellent preservation. His coquettings for s