She hugged him to the point of smifflication, as Mr. Sanders declared, and she held him at arm's length, the better to see whether he had changed, and in what particular. Then she turned to Mr. Sanders: "Mr. Sanders, sholy you knows dis chil'--sholy you ain't done gone an' disremembered Randall. Des like you seed him doin' des now, dat de way he been doin' all his born days--constantly a-playin', constantly a-makin' out dat what ain't so is so, an' lots mo' so. Many an' many's de time sence Miss Adelaide been here has I had de idee dat ef Randall wuz here, he'd be mo' dan a match fer Cally-Lou an' all de rest un um dat slips out'n dreams an' stays wid us. Yasser, I sho has. But now he's come, I des feels in my bones dat he gwine ter git in deep trouble 'bout dem crimes what he run away fer." "Randall is the chap that knocked Judge Bowden's overseer crossways an' crooked, ain't he?" inquired Mr. Sanders. "Yasser, he done dat thing," replied Lucindy: "an how come he ter do it--him dat wuz afear'd er his own shadder--I'll never tell you. Let 'lone dat, he ain't gwin ter tell you; kaze I done ax'd him myse'f. I speck he'll haf ter run away ag'in." "You know me, don't you, Randall?" inquired Mr. Sanders. "La! yasser, Mr. Sanders, I've been knowin' you sence I could walk good." "That's what I thought," said Mr. Sanders. "Well, my advice to you is to stay an' face the music. Ef the man you hit makes a move we'll have him right whar we've been a-tryin' fer to git him for two long years!" They went toward the house, and entered the side-gate, attracting, as they did so, the attention of two or three of the neighbours. The Bishop had been so absorbed in what had occurred that he forgot to turn his coat, or to right his hat. "Did you see old Billy Sanders?" one woman asked another over the back fence. "I did," replied the other, "and I like to have dropped--I believe he is going crazy." "Going!" exclaimed the first woman, "he's gone! Done gone!" PART III O winds of the sea, that whisper, Will you not whisper to me What the marvellous strange visions Of a little child may be? O wild rose, stirred and shaken, By the wind that ripples the stream, Why are the children dreaming, And what are the dreams they dream? --_Beverly's Attitudes and Platitudes: A Drama._ "Them that slip out'n dreams an' stay with us!" said Mr. Sanders to himself, as they went along. "Be jiggered ef that ain't a new one on me! I'll take it home an' chew on it when I'm lonesome." Adelaide had just cause of complaint, she thought. "Now we can't have any fumerl, with strange folks tip-toeing about the place, and carriages at the door, with horses snorting and pawing the ground." "It's jest as well," remarked Mr. Sanders. "All that sort of thing will come along lot's quicker than we want it to."