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114 Frank warmed to the boy as they contuiued their conversation. A dark spell seemed to lift from Markham's spirit, each mile accomplished away from the great city that appeared to hold some secret, haunting dread for him.

"Greenville," announced Frank heartily at length—"and home."

The hour was late, the streets deserted, but, as they strolled away from the little railroad depot, Markham walked like a person in some rapt dream. He drew in great luxurious breaths of the flower-perfumed air. He viewed pretty moonlit lawns and gardens as if he were looking at some fascinating picture.

"Like it, do you?" smiled Frank.

"I love the country. I always did," replied Markham. "This is just grand to me. Look here, now," he continued, "you had better let me stow myself in some friendly haystack or under some hedge till morning. Don't disturb your mother to-night about me."

"Disturb her?" said Frank. "No danger of her going to bed till I show up, if it's till morning. There we are—there's the light in the window for us, Markham."

Frank led his friend upstairs over the store. Markham lagged behind until the greetings