“You must come back, Mr. North,” she said. “I want you to feel that here at Elaine there’s a room always ready and waiting for you, and a welcome from us all. I’ve adopted you, sir, so don’t――don’t let it be too long before you return.” “My dear Mrs. Ryerson,” he had answered warmly, “no one could be sorrier to go than I, and no one happier to come back.” “That is a promise,” she had replied, well pleased. “We shall remember it. And you’ll look after Phillip, won’t you? You see, I’m not altogether disinterested, am I? Good-night and good-by, Mr. North; and――I suppose you don’t care to kiss old women, do you?” “I love to kiss young women who call themselves old,” John had answered. But Mrs. Ryerson was not the only member of the household at Elaine who had fallen victim to John. Uncle Casper had learned of his departure with comical but genuine sorrow, and all through breakfast he stole about the table with gloom depicted on his countenance. He passed every dish to John again and again, accompanying each with low-voiced advice and entreaties. “Better have some mo’ cakes, Mister No’th, sir; traveling mighty tryin’ bizness.” “’Nother aig, sir? Yo’ got a long journey ahaid, sir!” “Please, sir, let me git yo’ some mo’ coffee. It’s pow’ful cold an’ crampy out do’s this mawnin’!” Will was awaiting them with the buckboard, in which John’s trunk and luggage were already piled. Margaret accompanied them to the porch, and when Phillip, who for some inexplicable reason had come out without his hat, returned inside, John seized the opportunity to bid her good-by. The smile she had worn all during breakfast left her face as he took her hand. “I wish I were not driving you away,” she said regretfully. “But you’re not; I have to go.” She shook her head. “I fear I’m as distrustful of that telegram as Phil is,” she answered with a smile. “I’m sorry. We shall miss you. But you will come again, won’t you? You won’t let this――this mistake keep you away?” “Do you want me to come back?” he asked with a note of hope in his voice. “Yes,” she replied evenly. “I always want my friends to come back.” “Good-by,” he sighed, dropping her hand. “Here’s one friend who will be mighty glad to get back. And if―――― Well, good-by, Miss Ryerson. Remember your promise.” “Yes; but please, _please_ don’t think of that!” “You mean don’t hope anything from it? I fear I can’t promise that. I was born hopeful, I guess, and it’s too late now to reform. All ready, Phil. Say good-by to ‘Uncle Bob’ for me, Miss Ryerson; tell him I hope his gout will improve.” Phillip touched Cardinal with the lash and they sped off down the avenue into the raw, chill mist. At the last turn John looked back. Margaret and Uncle Casper were still standing under the portico, indistinct forms in the gray morning gloom.