And go Mrs. Hodges would not. So Eliphalet was forced to write and refuse the offered treat. But on a day there came another letter, and he could no longer refuse to grant the wish of his beloved boy. The missive was very brief. It said only, "Alice has promised to marry me. Won't you and Aunt Hester come and see me joined to the dearest girl in the world?" There was a postscript to it: "I did not love Elizabeth. I know it now." "Hester, I 'm a-goin'." said Eliphalet. "Go on, 'Liphalet, go on. I want you to go, but I 'm set in my ways now. I do hope that girl kin do something besides work in an office. She ought to be a good housekeeper, an' a good cook, so 's not to kill that pore child with dyspepsy. I do hope she won't put saleratus in her biscuits." "I think it 's Freddie's soul that needs feedin.'" "His soul 'll go where it don't need feedin', ef his stomach ain't 'tended to right. Ef I went down there, I could give the girl some points." "I don't reckon you 'd better go, Hester. As you say, you're set in yore ways, an' mebbe her ways 'ud be diff'rent; an' then--then you 'd both feel it." "Oh, I suppose she thinks she knows it all, like most young people do." "I hope she don't; but I 'm a-goin' down to see her anyhow, an' I 'll carry yore blessin' along with mine." For the next week, great were the preparations for the old man's departure, and when finally he left the old gate and turned his back on the little cottage it was as if he were going on a great journey rather than a trip of less than a hundred miles. It had been a long time since he had been on a train, and at first he felt a little dubious. But he was soon at home, for his kindly face drew his fellow-passengers to him, and he had no lack of pleasant companions on the way. Like Fred, the noises of the great station would have bewildered him, but as he alighted and passed through the gate a strong hand was laid on his shoulder, and his palm was pressing the palm of his beloved son. The old carpet-bag fell from his hands. "Freddie Brent, it ain't you?" "It 's I, Uncle 'Liph, and no one else. And I 'm so glad to see you that I don't know what to do. Give me that bag." They started away, the old man chattering like a happy child. He could not keep from feasting his eyes on the young man's face and form. "Well, Freddie, you jest don't look like yoreself. You 're--you 're--" "I 'm a man, Uncle 'Liph." "I allus knowed you 'd be, my boy. I allus knowed you 'd be. But yore aunt Hester told me to ask you ef--ef you 'd dropped all yore religion. She 's mighty disturbed about yore dancin'." Brent laughed aloud in pure joy. "I knowed you had n't," the old man chuckled. "Lost it all? Uncle 'Liph, why, I 've just come to know what religion is. It 's to get bigger and broader and kinder, and to live and to love and be happy, so that people around you will be happy." "You 're still a first-rate preacher, Freddie."