“The boy was young? You say this was five years ago?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“A lad changes a good deal in that time. Do I resemble him—even remotely?”

“You?”

She studied him again as though for the first time she had seen him.

“Joe,” she faltered, “must be now—about your height.”

“That’s enough. A grown man may change in every way except in height.”

“But—”

“There is only a week or so. I am free. Why couldn’t I play the son? Why,” he smiled at the odd whirligig, “why couldn’t I play the prodigal?”

She started back, her hands clasped to her breast, her eyes grown big.