coat and civilization the stranger began to grow nervous. Lewis looked
up more than once to find himself the object of a troubled gaze. They
were the only passengers. There were moments when the road-bed permitted
snatches of conversation, but it was during a long stop on a side-track
that the stranger unburdened himself.

"Boy," he said, "the time is coming when I must tell you my name."

"I know your name," said Lewis.

"What!" cried the stranger.

"I know your name," repeated Lewis; "it is Leighton."

"How? How do you know?" The stranger was frowning.

"No," said Lewis, quietly; "I haven't been looking through your things.
One day my--my foster-father and my foster-mother were talking. They did
not know I was near. I didn't realize they were talking about me until
mammy spoke up. Mammy is--well, you know, she's just a mammy----"

"Yes," said the stranger. "What did mammy say?"

"She said," continued Lewis, coloring slightly, "that a Leighton didn't
have to have his name written in a family Bible because God never
forgets to write it in his face."

"Good for mammy!" said the stranger. "So that's what they were talking
about." For a moment he sat silent and thoughtful; then he said: "Boy,
don't you worry about any family Bible business. Your name's written in