An hour later we went our
separate ways.
"I heard nothing further for two weeks, then Mr. Nesbitt was called
East on business and said I might go home if I liked. Imagine my
ecstasy. I found the family, as well as all Methodists in general,
quite uplifted over the strange case of Kirke Connor. From a
semi-satanic, he had suddenly evoluted into a regular pillar, as became
the son of his saintly mother and his orthodox father. He attended
church, he sang in the choir, he went to Sunday-school, he was
prominent at prayer-meeting. Every one was full of pious satisfaction
and called him 'dear old Kirke,' and gave him the glad hand and invited
him to help at ice-cream socials. No one could explain it, they
thought he was a Mount Mark edition of Twice Born Men in the flesh.
"So the first afternoon when he drove around with his speedy little
brown horse and his rubber tired buggy and asked me to go for a drive,
father smiled, and Aunt Grace demurred not. Maybe I could give him a
little more light. I watched him pretty closely the first mile or so.
He had nothing to say until we were a mile out of town. He is a
good-looking fellow, Carol,--you remember, of course, because you never
forget the boys, especially the good-looking ones.
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