At noon he went out to a bakery and bought for himself a light luncheon. As he was returning to the depot he came suddenly upon Aleck Sands, who had had his dinner and was starting back to school. There was no time for either boy to consider what kind of greeting he should give to the other. They were face to face before either of them realized it. As for Pen, he bore no resentment now, toward any one. His heart had been wrung dry from that feeling through two months of labor and of contemplation. So, when the first shock of surprise was over, he held out his hand. "Let's be friends, Aleck," he said, "and forget what's gone by." "I'm not willing," was the reply, "to be friends with any one who's done what you've done." And he made a wide detour around the astonished boy, and marched off up the hill. From that moment until the train came and he boarded it, Pen could never afterward remember what happened. His mind was in a tumult. Would the cruel echo of one minute of inconsiderate folly on a February day, keep sounding in his ears and hammering at his heart so long as he should live? It was mid-afternoon when Pen reached Lowbridge, and he went at once to the Starbird mill on the outskirts of the town. He caught sight of Robert Starbird in the mill-yard, and went over to him. The man did not at first recognize him. "I'm Penfield Butler," said the boy, "with whom you were talking last week." "Oh, yes. Now I know you. You look a little different, some way. I've been watching out for you. How did you make out with your Grandpa Walker?" "Well, Grandpa Walker found it a little hard to take up the work I'd been doing, but he was quite willing I should come, and helped me very much." "I see." An amused twinkle came into the man's eyes; just such a twinkle as had come into the eyes of Henry Cobb that morning on the way to Chestnut Hill. "Well," he added, "I guess it's all right. Come over to the office. We'll see what we can do for you." They crossed the mill-yard and entered the office. An elderly, benevolent looking man with white side-whiskers, wearing a Grand Army button on the lapel of his coat, was seated at a table, writing. Three or four clerks were busy at their desks, and a girl was working at a type-writer in a remote corner of the room. "Major Starbird," said the man who had brought Pen in, "this is the boy whom I told you last week I had hired as a bobbin-boy. He's a grandson of Enos Walker out at Cobb's Corners." The man with white side-whiskers laid down his pen, removed his glasses, and looked up scrutinizingly at Pen. "Yes," he said, "I know Mr. Walker." "He is also," added Robert Starbird, "a grandson of Colonel Richard Butler at Chestnut Hill." "Indeed! Colonel Butler is a warm friend of mine. I was not aware that--is your name Penfield Butler?" "Yes, sir," replied Pen. Something in the man's changed tone of voice sent a sudden fear to his heart.