"I have come to see your papa and mama," he said. "Are they at home? I think they are expecting me." "They are down in the meadow getting flowers," the boy answered. "They are coming right back. You can see them from here. Look, there by the spring!" The stranger followed the direction indicated by the little hand, and his eyes took on a wistful stare as they fixed upon a couple strolling across the meadow, holding flowers and ferns in their hands. They walked quite close together, those two, and the distance seemed to enfold them with conscious tenderness. "They are both well, I believe?" the man said to the boy, as the more timid little girl turned and toddled away. "Yes, thank you," the boy answered, in words which sounded stilted in one so young. "They got your letter. I heard papa say so. You are Mr. Mostyn, a very old friend of theirs. They said I must love you and be good while you are here, because you have no little boy yourself." "Yes, yes, that's true," Mostyn answered, taking the child's hand in his. "Now you know my name, you must tell me yours." "Richard," the child said. "I was named for your little boy that died and went up to God. Papa used to love him long, long ago in Atlanta." Mostyn drew the child along by the hand. The delicate throbbing of the boy's pulse thrilled him through and through. Steps sounded in the hall of the house, and John Webb, not any older in appearance than when last seen, crossed the veranda and came slowly down the steps. "Well, well, well!" he cried. "Here you are at last. It must be a powerful long trip from Californy. The folks didn't seem to think you'd git here till in the morning. They 'lowed you'd stop for a while in Atlanta." "I finished my visit there sooner than I expected." Mostyn shook the thick damp hand warmly. "I've been living out in the open so much of late years that Atlanta seemed stuffy and crowded; besides, my sister has moved away, and I have no blood-kin there. I wanted to get into the country as soon as I could, and this seems like home in a way." "That's what Dolly and Jarvis are goin' to try to make it for you," Webb went on. "Lord, they have been countin' on this for a long time! Seems like they don't talk of much else. I heard 'em say they was goin' to try to break you of your rovin' habit. They've got your room fixed up to a gnat's heel. It is the best one in the house--plenty of air and light. That's what they are out pickin' flowers and evergreens for now. They want it to look cheerful." "It is very kind of them, I am sure," Mostyn answered, "but I wouldn't like to be in the way very long."