sional tearful responses of his mother, and he was
fancying himself again at church when he heard a step, and the young
preacher seemed to enter the room, and going to the bed leaned over it
and kissed him on the forehead, and then bent over his little brother
and sister and kissed them too. Then he slowly re-entered the
living-room. Lifting himself softly on his elbow, Selby saw him go up
towards his mother, who was crying, with her head on the table, and
kiss her also on the forehead. Then he said "Good-night," and the front
door closed, and Selby heard his footsteps crossing the lot towards the
barn. His mother was still sitting with her face buried in her hands
when he fell asleep.

She sat by the dying embers of the fire until the house was still
again; then she rose and wiped her eyes. "Et's a good thing," she
said, going to the bedroom door, and looking in upon her sleeping
children; "et's a mercy and a blessing for them and--for--me.
But--but--he might--hev--said--he--loved me!"

III

Although Gideon Deane contrived to find a nest for his blanket in the
mouldy straw of the unfinished barn loft, he could not sleep. He
restlessly watched the stars through the cracks of the boarded roof,
and listened to the wind that made the half-open structure as vocal as
a sea-shell, until past midnight. Once or twice he had fancied he
heard the tramp of horse-hoofs on the far-off trail, and now it seemed
to approach nearer, mingled with the sound of voices. Gideon raised his
head and looked through the doorway of the loft. He was not mistaken:
two men had halted in the road before the house, and were examining it
as if uncertain if it were the dwelling they were seeking, and were
hesitating if they should rouse the inmates. Thinking he might spare
the widow this disturbance to her slumbers, and possibly some alarm, he
rose quickly, and descending to the inclosure walked towards the house.
As he approached the men advanced to meet him, and by accident or
design ranged themselves on either side. A glance showed him they were
strangers to the locality.

"We're lookin' fer the preacher that lives here," said one, who seemed
to be the elder. "A man by the name o' Hiler, I reckon!"

"Brother Hiler has been dead two years," responded Gideon. "His widow
and children live here."

The two men looked at each other. The younger one laughed; the elder
mumbled something about its being "three years ago," and then turning