But the boy's thoughts were far from the church and its rector, and the
words sifted rapidly through his brain. He touched his hat at the
tourist's greeting and smiled into the clergyman's face, but his actions
were automatic. He would have nodded to the horse in the street or have
smiled at the sun.

As he passed the small shops fronting on the narrow sidewalk and
followed the whitewashed fence of the college grounds until it ended at
the Old Stage Road, he was conscious of the keen, pulsating harmony of
life. It was good to be alive--to feel the warm sunshine overhead and
the warm dust below. He was glad that he had been born, though the idea
had never formulated itself until now. He would be very good all his
life and never do a wicked thing. It was so easy to be good if you only
wanted to. Yes, he would study hard and become learned in the law, like
those old prophets with whom God spoke as man with man. Then, when he
had grown better and wiser than any one on earth, his tongue would
become loosened, and he would go forth to preach the Gospel, and Juliet
would listen to him for his wisdom's sake. Oh, if she would only love
him best--best of all!

This evening the road through the wood did not frighten him, though the
sun was down. He thought neither of the ghosts that Uncle Dan'l had
seen, nor of the bug-a-boos that had chased Viney's husband home. He was
too old for these things now. He had grown taller and stronger in a day.
When he reached the pasture gate opposite the house he opened it and
went in to look for the sheep.

The west was fast losing colour, like a bright-hued fabric that has been
drenched in water, and a thick, blue mist, shot with fireflies, shrouded