cordial and told me that the Dunkelbergs had gone to Saratoga.

"I got a letter from Sally this morning," Betsy went on. "She said that
young Mr. Latour was at the same hotel and that he and her father were
good friends."

I wonder if she really enjoyed sticking this thorn into my flesh--a
thorn which made it difficult for me to follow the advice of the
schoolmaster and robbed me of the little peace I might have enjoyed. My
faith in Sally wavered up and down until it settled at its wonted level
and reassured me.

It was a perfect summer morning and I enjoyed my walk over the familiar
road and up into the hill country. The birds seemed to sing a welcome to
me. Men and boys I had known waved their hats in the hay-fields and
looked at me. There are few pleasures in this world like that of a boy
getting home after a long absence. My heart beat fast when I saw the
house and my uncle and Purvis coming in from the twenty-acre lot with a
load of hay. Aunt Deel stood on the front steps looking down the road.
Now and then her waving handkerchief went to her eyes. Uncle Peabody
came down the standard off his load and walked toward me.

"Say, stranger, have you seen anything of a feller by the name o' Bart
Baynes?" he demanded.

"Have you?" I asked.

"No, sir, I ain't. Gosh a'mighty! Say! what have ye done with that boy
of our'n?"

"What have you done to our house?" I asked again.

"Built on an addition."

"That's what I've done to your boy," I answered.

"Thunder an' lightnin'! How you've raised the roof!" he exclaimed as he
grabbed my satchel. "Dressed like a statesman an' bigger'n a bullmoose.
I can't 'rastle with you no more. But, say, I'll run ye a race. I can
beat ye an' carry the satchel, too."

We ran pell-mell up the lane to the steps like a pair of children.

Aunt Deel did not speak. She just put her arms around me and laid her
dear old head upon my breast. Uncle Peabody turned away. Then what a
silence! Off in the edge of the woodland I heard the fairy flute of a
wood-thrush.

"Purvis, you drive that load on the floor an' put up the hosses," Uncle
Peabody shouted in a moment. "If you don't like it you can hire 'nother
man. I won't do no more till after dinner. This slave business is played
out."

"All right," Purvis answered.

"You bet it's all right. I'm fer abolition an' I've stood your
domineerin', nigger-driver ways long enough fer one mornin'. If you
don't like it you can look for another man."