"It do, it do," chuckled Old Cy, as if glad of it, "an' all the more need o' you hustlin'. It's a case o' woodchuck with ye now. But don't git discouraged. Jest dig. Chip's worth it, ten times over, 'n' no man ever worked to win a woman 'thout bein' bettered by it." It was terse and homely advice, and not only convinced Ray that he had neglected one whom he now felt meant home, wife, happiness, and all that life might mean for him, but made him realize that all possible striving and self-denial must be made in atonement. With whom and what sort of people Chip had found asylum, he knew not. What influence they would have upon her feelings was an equally unknown matter; and worse than that, the ogre of another suitor for Chip's favor now entered Ray's calculations, and the slang truism, "There are others," was with him every waking moment--a much-deserved punishment, all womankind will say. CHAPTER XXXVIII One day while Aunt Abby and Chip were enjoying the newly furnished home of Uncle Jud, a capacious carriage drawn by a handsome pair of horses halted there and Martin and Angie alighted. "We are taking a cross-country drive for an outing," he explained, after Angie had kissed Chip tenderly and greetings had been exchanged. "We have waited for you, Miss Runaway, to come and visit us," he added, turning to Chip, "until we couldn't wait any longer and so came to look for you. We have also some news that may interest you. Old Cy has been heard from at last. He spent a year looking for you. He has now gone into the woods, to my camp, where Ray located for the winter, and when spring comes, I can guess where they will head for." How welcome this news was to Chip, her face fully indicated; but neither Martin nor Angie realized how much or for what reason it interested this soft-voiced, gracious lady whom Chip called Aunt Abby. They knew Uncle Jud was Old Cy's brother and that they had once been sailors from Bayport, but the long-ago romance of Aunt Abby's life was unknown to them. And now ensued a welcome to the callers such as only Uncle Jud and Aunt Mandy could offer. "We sorter feel we robbed ye o' Vera," Uncle Jud explained, "though 'twa'n't any intention on our part, an' so ye must gin us some chance to make amends. We callate 'twa'n't no fault of yourn, either, only one o' them happenin's that was luck for us." That evening was one long to be remembered by all who were present, for Chip's history, as told by Martin and Angie, was the entertaining topic, and its humorous side was made the most of by Martin. Chip was in no wise annoyed by Martin's fun-making, either. Instead, conscious of the good-will and affection of the friends who had rescued her from the wilderness, she rather enjoyed it and laughed heartily at Martin's description of various incidents, especially her first appearance in their camp, and the language she used.