Dan was conscious, too, of a sense of freedom--of a broader, fuller life than he had ever known. Through the old Doctor's timely words, setting his thoughts into new channels, he had come out of his painful experience with a certain largeness of vision that made him stronger. He had found himself. He did not know yet what he would do; he had plans dimly formed, but nothing fixed. What did it matter? Somewhere he felt his garden waited for him; he would find his work. He was free from the deadening influence of the cast-iron monument and that, for the moment, was enough. So far as his Corinthian ministry was concerned only one shadow, out of all the dark cloud of his troubled experience remained. When that was lifted he would turn his back upon Corinth forever, but until then he did not feel free to go. They were lying on the grassy bank of a woodland pasture, where a herd of cattle grazed or lay contentedly in the shade of the scattered trees. "Heigh-ho," said the Doctor, "I believe I will go with you, lad." For some time they had been silent and it was almost as though the old man had spoken to his companion's thoughts. "Go where?" asked Dan, turning over on his side and half-raising himself on his elbow. "Why home to Mutton Hollow, of course. You'll be leaving pretty soon now, I reckon." "I suppose so," mused Dan vaguely. "But I'm not going home." The old Doctor sat up. "Not going home!" Dan smiled. "Not just yet," he answered. "I want to run about a little first." "Uh-huh," the Doctor nodded. "Want to get your hair dry and your shirt on right side out before you face the folks." Dan laughed. "Perhaps I want to look for my garden," he said. "Good!" ejaculated the other, now very much in earnest. "Let me help you, lad. You know what I have always hoped for you. My profession needs--." Dan interrupted gently, "No. No Doctor, not that. I have a notion--but there--it's all too vague yet to even discuss. When I am ready to go home I'll write you and you can meet me there. Will you?" The old man hid his disappointment, answering heartily, "Sure I will! I'll be there when you arrive, to help kill the fatted calf." He did not tell Dan of a letter from his mother urging him, for certain reasons, to visit them, or that he had already promised her to be with them when Dan should return. The shadows were beginning to stretch toward the river, and the cattle were moving slowly in the direction of the farmyard, hidden somewhere beyond the fringe of timber, when the two friends went leisurely back to the road to find their rig and start for home. Climbing the fence they paused and--seated on the top rail--watched a team and buggy just coming down the opposite bank of the stream to cross the ford. Midway the horses stopped to drink. "By George," muttered the Doctor, "it's our friend the Judge!"