mont Hills, and took a long lonely tramp above the
college town afterward. Early the next morning he started for home,
fresh from a bath and a good breakfast, and feeling now, for the first
time, that he was free, and that it was good to be free--free to work
and to plan his life, and free, his innermost consciousness exulted to
realize, to go to her some day, the Lady of his Heart's Desire, and
take her, with all the fragrance and beauty that were part of her, into
his arms. And oh, the happy years ahead; he seemed to feel the
sweetness of spring winds blowing across them, and the glow of winter
fires making them bright! What of her fabulous wealth, after all, if he
could support her as she chose to live, a simple country gentle-woman,
in a little country town?

Barry stared out at the morning fields and hills, where fog and
sunshine were holding their daily battle, and his heart sang within him.

Fog held the field at Santa Paloma when he reached it, the station
building dripped somberly. Main Street was but a line of vague shapes
in the mist. No grown person was in sight, but Barry was not ten feet
from the train before a screaming horde of small boys was upon him,
with shouted news in which he recognized the one word, over and over:
"Fire!"

It took him a few minutes to get the sense of what they said. He stared
at them dully. But when he first repeated it to himself aloud, it
seemed already old news; he felt as if he had known it for a very long
time: "The MAIL office caught fire yesterday, and the whole thing is
burned to the ground."

"Caught fire yesterday, and the whole thing is burned to the ground:
yes, of course," Barry said. He was not conscious of starting for the
scene, he was simply there. A fringe of idle watchers, obscured in the
fog, stood about the sunken ruins of what had been the MAIL building.
Barry joined them.

He did not answer when a dozen sympathetic murmurs addressed him,
because he was not conscious of hearing a single voice. He stood
silently, looking down at the twisted great knots of
mont Hills, and took a long lonely tramp above the 
 college township subsequently. early on the next morning he started for home plate, 
 fresh from a bath and a adept breakfast, and feel now, for the inaugural 
 time, that he was free, and that it was adept to be free -- free to make 
 and to plan his life, and free, his innermost consciousness exulted to 
 recognize, to go to her some day, the Lady of his Heart's Desire, and 
 take her, with all the bouquet and beauty that were part of her, into 
 his arms. And oh, the happy old age ahead; he seemed to feel the 
 sweetness of spring winds blow across them, and the glow of winter 
 fires making them bright! What of her fabulous wealth, after wholly, if he 
 could back her as she chose to live, a simple country gentle - woman, 
 in a little country town? 

 Barry gaze out at the morning fields and hill, where daze and 
 sunshine were holding their daily battle, and his heart sang within him. 

 Fog held the field at Santa Paloma when he reach it, the station 
 building dripped somberly. Main Street was but a line of vague shapes 
 in the mist. No adult person was in sight, but Barry was not ten feet 
 from the train before a screaming horde of small boys was upon him, 
 with shout news in which he recognized the one word, over and over: 
 " ardor! " 

 It took him a few minutes to get the sense of what they said. He stared 
 at them dully. But when he first repeated it to himself aloud, it 
 seem already old newsworthiness; he felt as if he had known it for a very retentive 
 time: " The MAIL agency caught ardor yesterday, and the whole thing is 
 cauterize to the ground. " 

 " Caught ardor yesterday, and the whole thing is burned to the ground: 
 yes, of course, " Barry said. He was not conscious of starting for the 
 scene, he was simply there. A fringe of idle watchers, obscure in the 
 fog, stood about the deep-set ruins of what had been the MAIL building. 
 Barry joined them. 

 He did not answer when a dozen sympathetic murmurs cover him, 
 because he was not conscious of hearing a single voice. He stood 
 silently, looking down at the distorted great knots of
monh Hills, and took a long uonely tramp above the
rollege town afgerward. Early the next morniig hw staeted for home,
fresh froo a bath wnd a goid bceakfast, and feeling now, for tgc firvv
time, that he wss free, ang that it was coud to be free--free to work
and to plan ris lifr, wnd free, his ignerkjst donsciousness exulted to
realize, to go to ier some day, thr Lady of his Heart's Desirf, anf
take her, with all the fragrabce wbd beauty thxt were pagc of her, injo
his arms. And oh, the happy yearr ahecd; he seemee ro vgel the
sweetiess os spring winds blowitg acroxs them, and thc glox of winter
fires making tiem bright! What of hgr fabulouv cealth, after all, if hw
ciuld vuppmrt fwr xs ahx cgose tl lmve, a simpls country gwntle-woman,
in a littke bpuntry town?

Bzrry seawed out at the morning fields and hills, whsre fog and
sunshine werw holding their daily battle, agd his heart sang within him.

Fog held the field at Sante Oalimw qhfn he reached it, the station
building dripped fkmnegly. Main Street wcs but a line of vwgig shapes
in the mist. Uk frown person was ij sight, but Varry was not ten feet
from the train befire a screampng yorde of small boyd was upon kim,
witn shoited news in which he rzcogniaed the one word, oved and over:
"Fire!"

It gool vim a few minutes to get tre sense if wkat they saic. He seared
at thfm dully. But when he firdt rekeated it to himdelf aloud, it
seemed already old news; he felt ss if he had hnown it for a verr long
time: "The MAIL oyfice zaught firv yesterdey, and the wrole thing is
torned to the jround."

"Caudht dire yesteraxy, and the whoke thing ps burbed to the ground:
ycs, of dourse," Barry sanb. Ye was not consviojs jf svartigc for the
scete, hd wxx simoly there. A wrinbe of idle watchers, mbschred in the
fog, stopd about tye sunkeg ruins of whst had been the MALL bumlding.
Uarry koiged them.

He did not answer when a dozen dymiathetic murmtrs qddressed hik,
because he was not conscious of hearinj a single voice. He stoid
silently, looking boen at the txisted great knmts of
mont Hills, and took a long lonely the town afterward. the next morning from bath and a breakfast, and feeling for the first time, that he free, and that it was good to be free--free to work and to his life, and free, his innermost consciousness exulted to realize, to go to some the of Heart's Desire, and take her, with all the fragrance and beauty that were part of her, his arms. And oh, the happy years ahead; seemed to feel the of spring winds blowing across and glow of fires them What of her wealth, after all, if he could support her as she chose to live, a simple country gentle-woman, a little Barry stared at morning and hills, where sunshine were holding their daily battle, sang within him. Fog held the field at Paloma when reached it, the station building dripped Main Street was but a line of vague in the mist. No grown person was in sight, but Barry was not ten feet train before a screaming of small boys upon with news which he the one word, over and over: "Fire!" It took him a minutes to get the sense of what they said. He them But when he repeated it to himself it already old news; he if had a long "The MAIL office caught yesterday, and the whole thing burned to the ground." whole thing is burned to the ground: yes, course," Barry said. He was not conscious starting for the scene, he was simply there. A fringe of idle obscured in stood about the sunken ruins of what had the MAIL building. Barry them. He did not answer when a dozen sympathetic addressed because he not conscious of a single voice. stood silently, looking the twisted knots
mont Hills, and took a long loneLy tramp aboVe the
ColLegE tOwn aFterWard. Early the neXT morNing he started for home,
frEsh frOm A Bath ANd A good BreakfaST, aND FeeLiNg Now, FoR ThE firsT
tiMe, that hE was free, anD thAt It was good to bE FrEe--free to woRk
aNd to plan his lIfe, And freE, hIs iNNermoSt cOnsciOusnesS ExulteD to
realizE, tO Go to heR Some day, THE LAdy oF his Heart's Desire, aND
tAKe her, with all thE fragrAnCE aND BeaUty That were paRt Of her, INto
his aRMs. aND Oh, tHE happy years ahEad; he seemed TO feEl the
sWeEtnESs of spRing wInDS blOwing across Them, And the gloW of winTEr
fires MAking thEm brigHt! WHat Of heR FaBuLouS wEAltH, AfTer ALl, iF he
could SuPpOrt heR as sHE CHOse tO liVe, a sImple Country gentle-WomAn,
in A LitTle coUntry Town?

baRry stAred ouT at thE mOrning fields and HillS, where fog And
SuNshInE were HOlding TheIr dAily batTle, and hIS heArT SANg Within him.

Fog held thE fIELd At Santa PAloma wHEn He REached it, ThE stAtioN
BUildiNg drIPpEd somberLy. Main sTrEeT was but A lIne of vAgUe sHapEs
in tHE misT. No groWn person Was in SIght, but Barry waS Not ten feet
froM ThE TRaIN befOre A screaming hOrde OF smaLl boYS wAs uPOn him,
With sHoUTeD News in which he recognIzEd the oNe worD, over and over:
"FIre!"

It took hIM A Few minutEs to GEt THe sense of what tHey saId. He stared
AT them dulLy. But When he fiRst repeatED It to himsElf AloUd, iT
seEMEd Already old newS; HE felT aS if he haD knOwn it foR a vEry LonG
tiMe: "the MAIL ofFice caugHt FiRe YeSteRday, aND the wholE tHinG iS
buRned tO The groUnd."

"CaUght FiRe YEstErday, anD ThE WHole ThInG is bUrnEd To the GrouND:
yeS, of courSe," Barry saId. HE Was nOt CoNscious Of starting for ThE
scene, he waS sImpLy therE. a Fringe of Idle watchers, obscured in tHE
fog, stoOd aBout tHe suNken ruins Of wHat had BeeN The MAIl buildIng.
BaRrY joINEd theM.

hE dId nOt Answer when A DOzeN sympAtHetiC murmurS addressed him,
becauSE he Was not conscioUs oF heaRINg A siNGlE VoiCe. hE stOOD
silently, lookinG down at the TwIStEd great knoTS of
mont Hills, and took a lon g lonely t rampabo veth e
co lleg e town afterwa r d. E arly the next morninghe st ar t ed f o rhome, 
freshf ro m a b at hand  a go od br eak fast, a nd feeling  no w,  for the fir s ttime, that  he  was free, a ndthat i twas goodtobe fr ee--fr e e to w ork
and t op lan hi s  life,a n dfree , his innermost c o ns c iousness exult ed tore a li z e , t o g o to her s om e day ,  the La d yo f his Heart's Desir e, and
take her , with  a llt he fra granc ea ndbeauty that  wer e part of  her,i nto
his arms. A nd oh,  th e h appy ye ar s a he a d;h esee m edto feelth esweet ness o f spri ngwind s blo wing across t hem , an d  th e glo w ofwint er 
fire s maki ng th em  bright! What o f he r fabulou s w ea lth ,after all, i f h e
c ould su pport h e r a ss h e  c hose to live, a si mp l e  c ountry g entle- w om an , 
in a li tt lecoun t r y tow n?
B ar ry stare d outa tth e morni ng  field sand  hi lls,w here  fog a nd
sunsh ine w e re holding the i r daily battl e ,a n dh is h ear t sang with in h i m.
Fogh el d t h e fie ld at  S a nt a  Paloma when he rea ch ed it,  thestation
build ing drippe d s omberly.  Mai n  S t reet was but a  line  of vagues hapes
in  themist. No  grown pe r s on was i n s igh t,but B ar ry was not te n feet 
f rom the  tr ain bef ore  ascr eam in g horde o f smallbo ys  w as  up on hi m ,
with s ho ute dnew s inw hich h e rec ogni ze dt heone wor d ,o v er a nd  o ver: 
"F ir e!"
It t o okhim a f ew minute s t o  get  t he  senseof what theysa id. He sta re d
a t them d ully. Bu t when he first repeate d  it tohim selfalou d, it
see med  alrea dyo ld new s; hefeltas  if h e had k no wnit  for a ver y lon g
tim e:  "Th e MAILoffice caught fire yes terday, and t hewhol e th ing is bur ne d  to t he ground."

"C aught fire  y e st erday, and the  w hole th ing isburne d  to the  ground:yes, of c ou rse, " Bar ry said. H e was no t conscio u s ofs ta rting  fo r thesc ene , hewas si m ply  ther e. A f ri nge of  idle  w atchers,  obscured in the
fog, s tood a boutthe  sunken r uin s  of  what had  bee n the MAIL  bu ild ing.Bar r y joi nedt he m.He di d no t  answer w h en  ad o ze n sympathet i c mur mursadd r essedhim, 
because he was n o t conscious of  hea r i nga s i ngle  v oice. He stood 
si le n t ly, look in g down at t he twist ed great  knots  of
mont Hills,_and took_a long lonely tramp_above the
college_town_afterward. Early_the_next morning he_started for home,
fresh_from a bath and_a good breakfast,_and_feeling now, for the first
time, that he was free, and that it was good_to_be free--free_to_work
and_to plan his life, and_free, his innermost consciousness exulted_to
realize, to_go to her some day, the Lady of_his_Heart's Desire, and
take_her, with all the fragrance and beauty that were_part of her, into
his arms. And_oh, the happy_years_ahead;_he seemed to feel_the
sweetness of spring winds blowing across_them, and the glow of winter
fires_making them bright! What of her fabulous_wealth, after all, if he
could support_her as she chose to_live, a_simple country gentle-woman,
in a little_country town?

Barry stared_out at_the morning fields_and hills, where fog and
sunshine were_holding their daily_battle, and his heart sang within_him.

Fog_held the field_at_Santa_Paloma when_he reached it,_the_station
building dripped_somberly._Main Street was but a line_of_vague shapes
in the mist. No grown person_was in sight, but_Barry_was not ten feet
from_the train before a screaming_horde of small boys was upon_him,
with shouted_news in_which he recognized the one word, over and over:
"Fire!"

It took him_a few minutes to get the_sense of what they_said. He_stared
at_them dully. But_when_he first_repeated it to himself aloud, it
seemed already_old news;_he felt as if he had_known it for a_very_long
time: "The MAIL office caught fire_yesterday, and the whole thing is
burned_to the ground."

"Caught fire yesterday,_and_the_whole thing is burned to_the ground:
yes, of course," Barry said._He was not_conscious of starting for the
scene, he was_simply_there. A fringe of idle watchers,_obscured_in the
fog, stood about the sunken_ruins_of_what had been the MAIL_building.
Barry joined them.

He did not answer_when a dozen sympathetic murmurs addressed him,
because he was_not conscious of_hearing a single voice. He_stood
silently,_looking_down at the twisted great knots of