them from suspecting that he still entered the place. His visits were not
many, but he could not bear to let the dust settle on the furniture that he
and Rose had chosen together; and whenever he locked the door and went back to
the River Farm, he thought of a verse in the Bible: "Therefore the Lord God
sent him forth from the Garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was
taken."


It was now Friday of the last week in August.

The river was full of logs, thousands upon thousands of them covering the
surface of the water from the bridge almost up to the Brier Neighborhood. The
Edgewood drive was late, owing to a long drought and low water; but it was to
begin on the following Monday, and Lije Dennett and his under boss were
looking over the situation and planning the campaign. As they leaned over the
bridge-rail they saw Mr. Wiley driving clown the river road. When he caught
sight of them he hitched the old white horse at the corner and walked toward
them, filling his pipe the while in his usual leisurely manner. "We're not
busy this forenoon," said Lije Dennett. "S'pose we stand right here and let
Old Kennebec have his say out for once. We've never heard the end of one of
his stories, an' he's be'n talkin' for twenty years."

"All right," rejoined his companion, with a broad grin at the idea. "I'm
willin', if you are; but who's goin' to tell our fam'lies the reason we've
deserted 'em? I bate yer we shan't budge till the crack o' doom. The road
commissioner'll come along once a year and mend the bridge under our feet, but
Old Kennebec'll talk straight on till the day o' jedgment."

Mr. Wiley had one of the most enjoyable mornings of his life, and felt that
after half a century of neglect his powers were at last appreciated by his