have met even enough to have remembered one another. Though I do remember that little girl with the big blue eyes, the eyes that looked at me back there in the road when I almost ran into you. I couldn’t place you at first, but I remembered those eyes."
"Yes, and I remember the nice boy that waited on us at the filling station, the boy they called Phil. And afterward I heard of Phil Pilgrim who won the prize at high school for his scholarship and his marvelous feats in running and swimming. Were you that one? I only heard the talk about you when I was in high school. So you are the boy who was so noted a character in those days on the athletic field?"
Pilgrim bowed assent. "Yes, I went to college afterward, and that was a way to help along financially."
"Oh, of course. Why, how wonderful that I should meet you this way! How wonderful that you came along just when I was in such dire need!"
"It’s kind of you to feel that way," said Pilgrim with a touch of aloofness in his voice. "I certainly am glad I was able to help you a little. It will make a pleasant incident to remember when I am overseas—or wherever they are sending me."
"Oh!" said Laurel in a small, sorry voice. "Are you—to go overseas?"
"Oh, I don’t know what they are going to do with me. That’s not my lookout. But it will be all right, whatever it turns out to be. After all, I haven’t had such a fancy life thus far that I can make any kick at what’s coming." He turned a cool grin toward her.
"Oh, I’m sorry," said Laurel. "But where did you live in Carrollton? I don’t remember that I ever heard."
"No, you wouldn’t," said the young man with a sigh. "It wasn’t in your region at all. In fact, if you’re interested, we’re going to pass the old farmhouse in about two minutes, where I lived alone with my grandfather for a good many years."
"We are?" said Laurel. "Yes, I am interested. I’d like to know all about you. You saved my life, you know, and of course I’m interested."
He turned another frank gaze on her. "That’s good of you," he said. "Well, there it is, up on the brow of the hill. Just an old farmhouse, and all run down now. Nobody’s lived there since Grandfather and I were there."
Laurel turned troubled eyes on the bleak old farmhouse glooming there on the hillside, gloomy even among the gorgeous autumn foliage on the few big trees around it.
"Oh—is that really where you lived?" said the girl with a pitiful tone in her voice. "And—what became of your grandfather?" And then when she saw the look on the young man’s face, she wished she hadn’t asked.
Phil Pilgrim took a deep breath, lifted his right hand from the wheel, and pointed across and down the road to the two sad little white stones among the grass by the roadside.
"He is lying over there beside Grandmother," he said solemnly.
Laurel looked at the two small white stones gleaming there in that desolate field among the pretty foliage of Crimson Mountain. "Oh, I’m sorry," said the girl softly and turned toward the young man, eyes bright with tears.
Phil Pilgrim gave her a grateful shadow of a smile and turned his head quickly away, looking off toward the mountains beyond his old home.
They drove on in silence for two or three minutes, the thoughts of each mingled with the story of the dreary home and the two white stones that marked a resting place.
Then all at once they swept around a group of trees, and there below them lay the village, with a filling station half hidden at their feet down the road a half mile.
"There!" said the young man, pointing down. "There’s our filling station. It won’t be long now," and he tried to say it cheerfully.
"Well, I’m glad you will soon be relieved of responsibility on my behalf. I don’t know how to express my gratitude."
"Don’t try, please. It has been a pleasure."
Then a moment later a paved road ambled up from the valley and crept away into a wide opening in the woods at the right, and Laurel exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, but isn’t that the road to the picnic grounds! That’s the road I thought I was taking up from the other side."
"Yes, that’s the road you should have taken, Miss Sheridan, if you came in on Route Thirty. This is the new stretch of road that used to be the shortcut from Route Thirty. But I’m glad you didn’t, for then I shouldn’t have had the pleasure of rescuing you and perhaps would never have known anything of you except the memory of the little girl with the gold curls and the eyes! But you must have gone at least two miles out of your way."
Then he drove down with a sweep and into the road in front of the gasoline pumps, but Laurel had a sudden sinking feeling that she was never going to see him again. Absurd of course! He was only a stranger. What difference did it make whether she ever saw him again or not? Three hours ago she had had no consciousness of his existence, and here she was feeling awful because she thought she wouldn’t see him anymore. What a little idiot she was! It was all because she had been through such a shock. All those awful creatures practically climbing over her! She shuddered as she remembered it again, her fright, her horror! And then those arms! Lifting her high above the milling, snorting horde, holding her safe above it all. She never could forget it! Oh, he was no stranger now, and never could be. He had saved her life! And yet he was going away. She wouldn’t see him anymore.
She watched him as he swung out of the car and went to speak to the young proprietor of the garage. She saw the grave, pleasant smile with which he greeted the man, who evidently recognized him and flashed an intelligent look as Phil Pilgrim went on to tell about the car up on Crimson Mountain, which was stalled and needing, he thought, something done to the generator. The gesture with which he pointed to another car standing near made it plain to Laurel as she watched. Yes, he was good-looking, and probably it was just as well that he was going away. Though she had never thought herself one to get her head turned by a handsome face, a courteous smile. But then, having had one’s life saved, it was nice to have as her rescuer one with an attractive appearance, something pleasant to remember.
She finished this homily to herself as Phil came back to explain to her, "He’s sending a man up immediately after your car. I’ve told him just where to find it. If you’ll give him the keys, he’ll tow the car down and let you know what has to be done. Now, in the meantime, I don’t suppose you want to just hang around here, do you? Haven’t you someplace you would like to go while you are waiting? I’ll be glad to take you wherever you suggest. I’ve practically nothing to do till the midnight train comes in, when I have to meet a man who wants to see my farm. I’ll be glad to see you through till your own car is seaworthy."
"Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t think of troubling you further after all you have done for me. I’ll be quite all right now. And I’m within walking distance now of several people I know."
"You’re not fit to walk," said Phil Pilgrim in his firm tone. "You don’t realize how much you were shaken by that experience on the mountain. I’m sorry to have to force my company on you any longer, but I guess there’s no way out, unless you can think of some friend you’d rather have take you places."
He smiled his engaging smile, and Laurel felt that breathless catch in her breath as she answered. "Oh no, there’s no one I’d rather have take me. I just don’t want to be any further nuisance to you."
"Well, so far you haven’t been a nuisance. In fact, you’ve helped to bring me out of an unpleasant situation that duty forced me into.
