those supplies to go to those needy Loyalists."

"No it is not," was the curt reply. "My life is of little value to any
one. It's because you are James Sterling's daughter; that's why. I
would do anything for his sake. He was a good friend of mine, and so
was his wife."

"I am thankful that you knew them. Was it for long, Mr. Norwood?"

"Why do you call me that?"

"Isn't that your name?"

"Heavens! No. I am Thomas Norman, your father's old friend."

At this confession Jean uttered a cry of amazement, and stared at the
man before her. She was almost too confused to think, so overwhelming
was her emotion. She felt that she must be dreaming, so wonderful did
it all appear.

"Yes," the man continued, "it is better for you to know all, and it
relieves my mind. Dane took the first part of his right name, and
merely changed the second. Now you understand all."

Jean did understand, and it gave her cause for much thought. She sat
down and gazed silently into the fire. How glad her father would be to
know that his friend was alive. And yet he would be greatly distressed
when he learned that he was a rebel. Could they ever be friends again?
she wondered. This modern Timon, with such hatred in his heart to the
King and the Loyalists, was not the man her father had known in the