"Oh, he does not know me, except as a farmer," said Mac quickly. "In fact, nobody around here does. You see, Bruce, I am just plain Alec McKinney, who went to Boston when a young fellow--you know that Boston, Bruce, is another name for the whole United States, on this Island--and who came back a fizzle and a failure to work his father's farm. But say, Bruce," and Mac turned to me very quickly, "what brought you here, anyhow? I wager there is a reason for the visit. Now, own up." He stopped the buggy right in the middle of the road and looked me in the face. "Surely," he went on, "you would not have thought of coming to the Island just to gossip about old times." "Well, perhaps I would, Mac. In fact, I am glad I came," I answered, "but you guess well, for this time I was sent." Mac interrupted me with a ring of joy in his voice: "You were sent? Good! I am glad. Now, out with it." "Well, I am glad if it pleases you, Mac, for it looks as if I had a chance to get you." "Get me?" Mac grew grave again. "Yes, the old place wants you--for Greek, Mac. We need you badly. Old Chalmers is dead. His place is vacant. No one can fill it better than the best Greek scholar the college ever produced. Mac, you must come, and I must bring you home. You know the old college is home for you. You can't fool me, Mac. You love it better even than this." And I waved my hand toward the bay. Mac's face showed emotion. I expected it would. I had prepared for the interview, and I knew Mac. I thought I had won; but he changed the conversation abruptly. "Look over there, Bruce," and he pointed with his whip toward the distance. "Away off on the other side of the Island is where Schurman of Cornell was born. There are lots of such men who come from around here. Down in that village is the birthplace of your Secretary of the Interior. These people, my people, worship God first and learning next. They are prouder of producing such men than they are of the Island itself, and to use student language, that is 'going some.'" "Yes, I suppose you are right, Mac," I answered, not quite seeing why he had thrown me off, "but they do not seem to know _you_." "No," he answered quickly. "they do not, and I do not want them to. It would frighten them off. It would require explanations. What difference if I have six letters after my name? To these people, worshiping what I know rather than what I am, I would not be Alec any more." "But Mac, you will come back now, won't you! The college wants you; you mustn't refuse."