ore the skies behind the ridges were high curtains of pale amber.

"Ye're a sight fer sore eyes, boy," declared the old mountaineer
heartily. "An' folks 'lows thet ye aims ter run fer office, too. Wa'al,
I reckon betwixt me an' you, we kin contrive ter make shore of yore
gettin' two votes anyhow. I pledges ye mine fer sartain."

Boone laughed though tears would better have fitted his mood, and the
old fellow chuckled at his own pleasantry.

"I reckon my gal will be out presently," Cyrus went on. "I've done
concluded thet ye war p'int-blank right in arguing that schoolin'
wouldn't harm her none."

But when the girl came out, the man went in and left them, as he always
did, and though the plucking of banjos within told of the family full
gathered, none of the other members interrupted the presumed courtship
which was so cordially approved.

Happy stood for a moment in the doorway against a lamplit background,
and Boone acknowledged to himself that she had an undeniable beauty and
that she carried herself with the simple grace of a slender poplar. She
was, he told himself with unsparing self-accusation, in every way
worthier than he, for she had fought her battles without aid, and now
she stood there smiling on him confidently out of dark eyes that made no
effort to render their welcome coy with provocative concealment.

"Howdy, Boone," she said in a voice of soft and musical cadences. "It's
been a long time since I've seen you."

"Yes," he answered with a painful sort of slowness, "but now that we're
both through school and back home to stay, I reckon we'll see each other
oftener. Are you glad to come back, Happy?"

For a few moments the girl looked at him in the faint glow that came
through the door, without response. It was as though her answer must
depend on what she read in his face, and there was not light enough for
its reading.

"I don't quite know, myself, Boone," she said hesitantly at last. "I've
sort of been studying over it. How about you?"

When she had settled into a chair, he took a seat at her feet with his
back against one of the posts of the porch, and replied with an
assumption of certainty that he did not feel, "A feller's bound to be
glad to get back to his own folks."

"After I'd been down there the first time and came back here again, _I_
wasn't glad," was her candid rejoinder. "I felt like I just couldn't
bear it. Over there things were all clean, and folks paid some attention
to quali