"Who could be out on a visit so late?" The old lady peered through the
shadows, as two figures advanced. The light streaming out from the hall
revealed Donald Meredith and his brother Harry's son, supposed to have
been lost seven years before!

The Meredith's sprang forward to greet their father, while Aunt Janice,
the story warm on her lips that she had just been telling, sat quite
still, scarcely believing what her eyes saw.

"Welcome, Donald--and--can it really be, or am I dreaming?"

She stretched out her arms, while the stalwart form of Harry and
Gwendolyn's son walked straight into the shelter of their love.

Older of course, and careworn, because of those years of imprisonment
among a savage tribe, yet the same! There was not time just then for the
story of those years--how he alone survived in the shipwreck where all
had been thought lost; of the struggle in the dark waters, but cast up at
last unconscious on shore in the most uncivilized part of Africa where he
had been a captive through the years. Then came the almost miraculous
escape to a passing ship homeward bound!

Later, there would be time a plenty for all of the details or as much as
he saw fit to tell.

Just a few low spoken words to Aunt Janice, and then he was off to find
his mother--and who would draw the curtain aside on that scene?--The
years seemed to roll back and link quickly with the present, while the
tension broke. Gwendolyn, forgetting in the joy of the moment, the sorrow