between old landmarks seemed to have changed, and the landmarks themselves to be the same yet not the same as before. In the hot noon stillness the village wore a blighted and ghostlike appearance. But the land breeze brought across the harbor the sweet smell of the Canadian fields of clover, still uncut and still blooming. And the boy, with his pockets full of money, and his eyes straining for a glimpse of the gray house on the knoll beyond the town, was on fire to be at home again.
Heber Griswold, their nearest neighbor, met him at the head of the slip as he hurried up, dragging his canvas bag.
"Hello, Heber!" called Marden, breathless and happy, and would have shaken hands.
Heber acted queerly, however, part offish and defiant, part cringing. He was in his best clothes.
"I seen the Andrew a-lyin' off there," he said in the tone of a set apology, "and I knowed you was a-comin' home. Ye see—ye see, Mard"—
But Marden had caught sight of some-
