” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. . Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. You can’t look me in the eyes and say you don’t care for me. A young man was playing the banjo. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. This is a joke of yours. " "So I find, Rowland," replied the other, in accents of deep disappointment, and at the same time relinquishing his grasp. “Alice—Alice gone dotty, and all over kids. Mr.
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