In his case there was no Bob Reynolds to offer aid and comfort, and the old man was nearly torn in pieces by the hackmen, who, the moment he appeared to view, pounced upon him as lawful prey, each claiming the honor of taking him wherever he wished to go, and raising such a din about his ears that he turned away thoroughly disgusted, telling them— “He had feet and legs, and common sense, and he guessed he could find his way without ’em. ’Bleeged to you, gentlemen, but I don’t need you,” and with a profound bow the honest looking old deacon walked away, asking the first man he met the way to Madison Square, and succeeding in finding the number without difficulty. With a scream of joy Katy threw herself into Uncle Ephraim’s arms, and then led him to her own room, while the first tears she had shed since she knew she was deserted rained in torrents over her face. “What is it, Katy-did? I mistrusted something was wrong. What has happened?” Uncle Ephraim asked; and with his arm around her, Katy told him what had happened, and asked what she should do. “Do?” the old man repeated. “Go home with me to your own folks until he comes from the wars. He is your husband, and I shall say nothing agin him; but if it was to go over I would forbid the banns. That chap has misused you the wust way. You need not deny it, for it’s writ all over your face,” he continued, as Katy tried to stop him, for sore as was her heart with the great injustice done her, she would not have Wilford blamed, and she was glad when dinner was announced, as that would put an end to the painful conversation. Leading Uncle Ephraim to the table, she presented him to Juno, whose cold nod and haughty stare were lost on the old man, bowing his white head so reverently as he asked the first blessing which had ever been asked at that table. It had not been a house of prayer—no altar had been erected for the morning and evening sacrifice. God had almost been forgotten, and now He was pouring His wrath upon the handsome dwelling, making it so distasteful that Katy was anxious to leave it, and expressed her desire to accompany Uncle Ephraim to Silverton as soon as the necessary arrangements could be made. “I don’t take it she comes for good,” Uncle Ephraim said that evening, when Mr. Cameron opposed her going. “When the two years are gone, and her man wants her back, she must come of course. But she grows poor here in the city. It don’t agree with her like the scent of the clover and the breeze from the hills. So, shet up the house for a spell, and let the child come with me.” Mr. Cameron knew that Katy would be happier at Silverton, and he finally consented to her going, and placed at her disposal a sum which seemed to the deacon a little fortune in itself.