It was well that his tasks for the year were well-nigh over, for he at once became consumed with the desire to see Nancy in the maturity of her girlhood. He promptly decided that he would go as soon as school closed and win her promise before he went on that prospecting tour. In the meantime his mind continued to hover over the hours they had spent together as boy and girl. He went to mill once more walking beside a little fairy figure on old Dobbin's back,--he caught the fragrance of shy flowers which nestled in cool woodland depths, and memory let softly down the bars into a holy of holies as the little girl said again in her sweet innocence, "Steve, let's build us a house in this wood and live here always." He mounted the rugged steeps of Greely's Ridge, her strong protector, while she reached down once more a timid little hand to hold his tightly,--and suddenly he was startled with remembrance of the character of that ridge. It must have held minerals! Coal, yes, coal,--he was sure of it! There was the piece of land he had been wanting to find! And so with buoyant, twofold hope he started as soon as school was out towards the Follet home, having deposited in the bank a sum which he felt would be sufficient to purchase the Greely Ridge, should he find it as valuable as he suspected and no one had preceded him in its discovery. XIII OLD TIES RENEWED It was mid-afternoon of a late June day when Steve stopped at Mr. Follet's store. He wondered if his old friend would be there. Yes, the door was open, and for a moment Steve stood on the platform in front, his tall figure erect, his head bared as he looked reverently towards the little home which had opened the world of books to him. Then Mr. Follet's high voice rang out from the dark depths where dry-goods and groceries rioted in hopeless confusion as of old. "Hello, stranger, what's the time o' day?" Steve stepping forward put out an eager hand, and cried: "Mr. Follet, don't you know me?" But the man only stared, coming forward into the light of the doorway. "Never saw you before," he declared at last; "or if I did, can't tell where under the cano_pee_ 'twas." Steve laughed with keen enjoyment at hearing the familiar old expression, and said eagerly: "Don't you remember Steve, little Steve Langly who worked for you one summer?" "Steve!" exclaimed Mr. Follet; "of course I do; nobody at my house has forgotten him, not by a jugful,--but this ain't Steve!" "This _is_ Steve though, Mr. Follet,--the same Steve, with just as grateful a heart for you and Mrs. Follet as I had the day I left you about a dozen years ago." "Well, this does beat me," said Mr. Follet. "We'll lock right up and go over to the house. My wife and Nancy will be powerful glad to see you if they can ever think who under the cano_pee_ you are." And he stepped briskly about locking up, and then the two walked over to the house.