utterance of two words, words of affection, of love, cried out in
the one voice he most longed to hear--for the voice was that of
his son. Yet, he did not look up. The thing was altogether
impossible! The boy was philandering, junketing, somewhere on the
Riviera. His first intimation as to the exact place would come
in the form of a cable asking for money. Somehow, his feelings
had been unduly stirred that morning; he had grown sentimental,
dreaming of pleasant things.... All this in a second. Then, he
looked up. Why, it was true! It was Dick's face there, smiling
in the doorway. Yes, it was Dick, it was Dick himself! Gilder
sprang to his feet, his face suddenly grown younger, radiant.

"Dick!" The big voice was softened to exquisite tenderness.

As the eyes of the two met, the boy rushed forward, and in the
next moment the hands of father and son clasped firmly. They
were silent in the first emotion of their greeting. Presently,
Gilder spoke, with an effort toward harshness in his voice to
mask how much he was shaken. But the tones rang more kindly than
any he had used for many a day, tremulous with affection.

"What brought you back?" he demanded.

Dick, too, had felt the tension of an emotion far beyond that of
the usual things. He was forced to clear his throat before he
answered with that assumption of nonchalance which he regarded as
befitting the occasion.

"Why, I just wanted to come back home," he said; lightly. A
sudden recollection came to give him poise in this time of