"Huh!" said one of these twain, "'Rory was too late, like enough, if she was plannin' to meet Number Four, fer any reason. Here comes the bus a'ready." Aurora Lane had indeed been too late to meet the train, but not too late to attain the purpose of her hurried walk. A moment later the two watchers on the sidewalk, and all the other Saturday loafers, saw her emerge again from the street that led up from the railway station. She was not alone now. A young man had spied her from his place in the hotel bus, and, whether in answer to a signal from her, or wholly of his own notion--regarding which there was later discussion by the two gossips above mentioned--had sprung out to join her on the street. He walked by her side now, holding her by the arm, patting her shoulder, talking to her volubly, excitedly, all the time--a tall young man in modern garb; a young man with good shoulders and a strong and easy stride. His face seemed flushed with eagerness and happiness. His hat, pushed back on his brow, showed the short curling auburn hair, strong and dense above the brown cheeks. Those who were close might have seen the kindly, frank and direct gaze of his open blue eyes. A certain aloof distinction seemed to cling about the young man also as he advanced now, laughing and bubbling over with very joy of life and eagerness at greeting this woman at his side--this woman whose face suddenly was glorified with a light none ever had seen it bear before. Why not? It was his mother--Aurora Lane, the best known woman of Spring Valley, and the woman with least reputation. The two passed directly into the center of the town's affairs, and yet they seemed apart in some strange way. They met greetings, but the greetings were vague, curious. No one knew this young man. "Huh!" exclaimed one of the two town critics once more. "There they go. Pretty sight, ain't it! Who's he?" Old Silas Kneebone leaned to his friend, Aaron Craybill, on the adjacent store box. "Taller'n she is, and got red hair, too, like hers. I wonder--but law!--No, good law! No! It kain't be. She ain't nobody's wife, and never was." "But there they go, walking through the streets in broad daylight, as bold as you please," commented his crony.