"No, of course not. I can't think how I can be so forgetful. It's
worse sometimes than others. It 's worse to-day because I knew
the Mayflowers were blooming and that reminded me it was time for
your father to come home; you must forgive me, dear, and will you
excuse me if I sit in the kitchen awhile? The window by the side
door looks out towards the road, and if I put a candle on the
sill it shines quite a distance. The lane is such a long one, and
your father was always a sad stumbler in the dark! I shouldn't
like him to think I wasn't looking for him when he's been gone
since January."

Ivory's pipe went out, and his book slipped from his knee
unnoticed.

His mother was more confused than usual, but she always was when
spring came to remind her of her husband's promise. Somehow, well
used as he was to her mental wanderings, they made him uneasy
to-night. His father had left home on a fancied mission, a duty
he believed to be a revelation given by God through Jacob
Cochrane. The farm did not miss him much at first, Ivory
reflected bitterly, for since his fanatical espousal of
Cochranism his father's interest in such mundane matters as
household expenses had diminished month by month until they had
no meaning for him at all. Letters to wife and boy had come at
first, but after six months--during which he had written from
many places, continually deferring the date of his return-they
had ceased altogether. The rest was silence. Rumors of his
presence here or there came from time to time, but though Parson
Lane and Dr. Perry did their best, none of them were ever