"Son"--he was "son" to the old brother and sister after that trip abroad--"son, go back to your hills and see in every ragged boy--Sandy Morley! In every little lass--your sister Molly! Gather them in, son, gather them in, and let us help them as we helped you to--come out cleaner and better. Work up there, son, as if God Almighty's eye alone was upon you. Men have forgotten the hill people, but God called you to lead them out of bondage." "It pays to advertise," Lans was remarking. "Yes," Sandy returned; "and Mr. Markham advertises in a most original and picturesque way." Through all the walks and drives round about The Hollow, Sandy inwardly prayed that Cynthia might not materialize. Why he so strongly desired this he could not tell. He liked Lans; enjoyed his visit and companionship, but he hoped he would leave before Cynthia appeared. He grew restless at times and found himself longing to tell Treadwell that the Markhams were coming to The Hollow for Christmas, and the rooms occupied by Lans would be needed. But the days went by and Cynthia kept from sight. The truth was, Sally Taber had gone to Trouble Neck and spread the news and warning. "You-all bes' stay away," she said; "dis yere Yank be right triflin' and polite. He makes us-all feel like we war dirt under his feet. I clar' I'd like to work an evil charm on him! Ole Mr. Morley he don' take naturally to the woods an' leaves them young gem'men to themselves. I keep the do' closed 'twixt them an' me--he makes me feel like there was traps set fo' my feet." "You must be having a real gay time up there!" Marcia Lowe replied, laughing at poor old Sally's indignation. "Well, I'se cookin' mo' an' mo' monstrous every day. If that Yank can stan' what I have in store fo' him from now on, I reckon he don' got a stummick like a beast o' burden." "Ah! poor Sandy," Cynthia cried; "you'll kill him, too. I reckon I'll come up and bring him food at night and put it in his study." "Not just yet, little Cyn," Marcia Lowe replied, putting a protecting arm about the girl. "Cynthia's a bit run down," she explained to Sally; "off her feed a little. We're going to have a holiday. What do you think?--Mr. Greeley is going to take us 'over the hills and far away'--about twenty-five miles away! He's going over to make a will for an old man who is dying and he's invited us to share his carriage. Take good care of the Morleys, Sally, and let's hope the stranger will leave before we return. I'm getting real Southern in my tastes and am positively suspicious of Northerners!" And it was a few nights after the night that Tod Greeley, with Marcia Lowe and Cynthia tucked comfortably away in the back seat of his carry-all, started on their trip, that Lans Treadwell and Sandy Morley sat before the fire in the study and had their talk--the talk that illumined the path on ahead for Sandy.