The pleasant afternoon had waned; Elizabeth Hunter gazed about her in astonishment; it was indeed late. She stooped and passed her hand over the name cut in the marble slab. "Hugh Noland, aged twenty-nine." "Hugh Noland, dear," she said aloud, "you have set me financially free, but there is another kind of freedom I have got to win for myself. I've got to tell John the things that we wanted to tell and were too cowardly to do. If we ever come together again I shall tell it out, if all this country gets to hear it. Jack can better afford to take the disgrace of it than to have a mother who carries it about with her as a secret. Without honesty no other virtue is a virtue at all." Elizabeth's eyes were full of tears as she voiced her vow, but there was a sense of relief welling up within her that she had not known in all the five years Hugh had lain here. She stood very quiet till her emotions were under control and her sunny self in command again, then she blew a kiss at Aunt Susan's grave and went to the waiting child and with him rode a merry race toward Colebyville. CHAPTER XXVII TO DO OVER, AND TO DO BETTER, WAS THE OPPORTUNITY OFFERED Elizabeth Hunter and her son were still breathing hard from rapid riding when they drew up in front of the post-office. Elizabeth dropped from the saddle, tossing her rein to Jack to hold till her return, and went inside. She was to remember this day and the dingy little window through which mail was passed. The postmaster was a new man and tossed the letters out carelessly; therefore he did not see the sudden start the girl gave as she began to gather them up. John Hunter's familiar handwriting stared at her from the top envelope. Elizabeth thought of many things while she waited for the man to run through the newspapers and magazines. Half an hour ago she had registered a vow beside Hugh Noland's grave. She was to be tested promptly. When all was handed out to her, she took the pile--Elizabeth's magazines supplied the entire community with reading material, and were handed from house to house till as ragged as the tumble weeds of her native Kansas--and put them all in the canvas bag at Jack's saddle horn. The letter was unopened. Something made her wait. Something said that John was asking to return--to do over, and to do better, was the opportunity offered to her. Her vow rose up before her; without the fulfillment of that vow there could be no _better_, that she recognized--and yet---- [Illustration: "JOHN HUNTER'S FAMILIAR HANDWRITING STARED AT HER FROM THE TOP ENVELOPE"]