Without a word Jeff wheeled the chair as near the grave as possible, every one making way for him and all wondering who he could be, except Roy and Fanny. Once during the committal he looked at them and in response to their greeting touched his hand to his uncovered head with a motion so natural that Alice, who was watching him, started with a conviction that she had seen him before, and when the next moment their eyes met and he smiled upon her she was sure that it was the boy Jeff. She could not speak to him then and when the ceremony was over and the people began to disperse there was a new diversion in the scene in the shape of a huge dog who came bounding over the grass and leaping upon Jeff nearly knocked him down. It was Nero escaped from the freight house at the station where his master had left him for a time in charge of a boy. Jeff’s longing to see Ridgefield had grown in intensity until at last without any warning of his coming, he started east with his dog and travelled night and day until Ridgefield was reached. Hearing in the car of the funeral and fearing Nero might be in the way he had him shut up and went rapidly up the street he remembered so well to the Prospect House, reaching it in time to take Sam’s place and wheel Uncle Zacheus to the cemetery. After many fruitless efforts to escape by the door Nero squeezed through a half open window and following his master’s trail came upon him in the graveyard and in his joy at finding him caused a lurch to the chair which elicited a groan from Uncle Zach. “Oh, Sam, are you in a hole, or what? You’ve nearly broke my back,” he said; “and whose great dog is that cantering ’round as if he was goin’ to jump on me. Go ’way, doggie, doggie; go ’way. Shoo! Shoo! Take him off!” he continued, as Nero showed signs of making his acquaintance, or at least finding out what manner of being it was wrapped in a shawl and looking so small and helpless. Jeff did not reply till he got the chair away from the grave to a side path where they were comparatively alone. “Where be you takin’ me? I or’to go back with the procession. Folks’ll think it queer,” Uncle Zach said, as he found himself at some distance from the main road of the cemetery. Stepping in front of him Jeff took off his hat and said, “Don’t you know me?” Uncle Zach’s sight was dim and his eyes weak with the tears he had shed, but something in Jeff’s voice and manner seemed natural. He, however, had no suspicion of the truth, and replied, “I or’to know you, of course, but I’m kind of blind, and my spe’tacles is at home. Who be you, and where is Sam?” “If I were to turn a somerset or two, and stand on my head, do you think you would know me then?” Jeff asked, with his old merry laugh. The effect was wonderful. Uncle Zach had not risen alone from his chair in months, but he sprang up now and stood firm upon his feet, with his arms outstretched. “Jeff! Jeff! my boy!” he cried, “It’s you, yourself, come back to me! Thank God!”