“I’m sure that’s very generous in you, Joyce,” said Gene, feeling a sense of shame over the way he had always treated her. “We’ll think about it. Aren’t you coming home with us now?” “Why, I’ll be down tomorrow, I guess,” she said pleasantly. “I want to get all these papers signed and everything fixed. I must be back on my job Monday, you know.” “I shouldn’t think you’d have to teach now,” said Nan, an envious note in her voice. “Why don’t you just telegraph them you aren’t coming back, and quit?” “Why, that wouldn’t be honorable,” laughed Joyce. “And besides I like it. I wouldn’t leave the kiddies for anything till the term is up.” “You’re a queer girl,” said Nan speculatively. “I don’t see why you don’t just want to have a good time.” “Why, I’m having a beautiful time,” said Joyce, wide-eyed. “I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do.” They went home, and the evening passed and still Darcy did not come. Joyce began to wonder if he were not coming at all. If, perhaps, she might be going to have to write him a note or call him up or something; for she did not mean to go back to Silverton without telling him in so many words how glad she was that he had found her Lord. Joyce spent Friday in going over her things in the old home and packing up what she wanted to take back with her to Silverton, but she went back at night to Judge Peterson’s. The minister and his wife came in to call that evening and they had a beautiful talk, but all the time Joyce was listening for a step that did not come, and wondering. Was Darcy still shy? Surely he would come just once after all that had happened, after she had come home to make things straight and set him free. She thought she heard the minister speak his name as they were about to leave, talking to Dan Peterson over by the door, and Dan said, “Yes, tomorrow,” that was all. She wanted to ask, but something held her back, and no one mentioned Darcy. Was it his second trial that was coming off tomorrow she wondered? She did not sleep well that night. She kept waking and thinking of Darcy. Was he going to have to go to prison after all for bootlegging? It seemed so hard now that he had begun his new life. She wished she dared ask about the law. The next morning at the breakfast table she followed a sudden impulse and told the Judge and his wife all about Darcy’s speech in the meeting on the night of the rain. Dan had gone into the hall to answer the telephone and when he came back he tiptoed in and stood by the door quietly, as if some one were praying. His eyes were down and his face looked strangely tender as if he were hearing a miracle. Neither the Judge nor Dan were much on religion, but Mrs. Peterson was a saint if there was one, and her face glowed with joy over the story. The old Judge cleared his throat three times before he growled out the words: