Now, instead of following the narrow footpath that made a short cut through the cool beech woods, he went half a mile out of his way, along the sunny turnpike.
[Illustration: Mars' Nat] Mars' Nat stood outside his kitchen window, with his hands in his pockets, giving orders to the colored boy within, who did his bachelor housekeeping.

Usually he had a joking word for old Sheba's grandson, but this morning he took no notice of the little fellow loitering by with such an appealing look on his face.

John Jay had come past the toll-gate with a hope of seeing the "Rev'und Gawge," as he called him.

It had been three weeks since the man had come home, and in that time John Jay's interest in him had grown into a sort of hero-worship.

There had been a great deal of talk about him among the ignorant colored people.
Wonderful stories were afloat of his experiences at the North, of his power as a preacher, and of the plans he had made to help his people.