They had tramped the hills together, Sandy and Lans. They had gone carefully over the plans for the factory and Home-school, had seen the growing building of the former and revelled in the dreams of the latter.
"It proves my liking for you, old chap," Lans had said, "when I can look at all this and not envy you. You see, Uncle Levi wanted to train me in the way I should go, but I got a twist in the wrong direction and—well! I never squeal. That's about all the philosophy or religion I have—I never squeal! Live your life; take your chances and squeal not! Then you remember I used to tell you that I was a big bungling giant? You've got the vision and the leading. But to think of Uncle Levi putting the reins in your hands! I can imagine him letting any one he likes hold the end of the reins—but he's leaned back and is letting you drive."
"Yes—but only because his big, wise head and loving heart tell him this is a safe road to travel."
"Oh! I don't know. Who's going to be any the better for—all this? There's a lot of Tommyrot about charity. If I were going to splurge I'd do it in the middle of the stage and make an advertisement of it at the same time. It's cheaper and more sensible. Why, if Uncle Levi would spend in Boston what he's spending up here—he'd have the world talking about his mills."
Sandy turned away. He was thinking of what Levi had said to him a few weeks before as he was ending his visit in Bretherton.
"Son"—he was "son" to the old brother and sister after that trip abroad—"son, go back to your hills and see in every ragged boy—Sandy Morley! In every little lass—your sister Molly! Gather them in, son, gather them in, and let us help them as we helped you to—come out cleaner and better. Work up there, son, as if God Almighty's eye alone was upon you. Men have forgotten the hill people, but God called you to lead them out of bondage."
"It pays to advertise," Lans was remarking.
"Yes," Sandy returned; "and Mr. Markham advertises in a most original and picturesque way."
Through all the walks and drives round about The Hollow, Sandy inwardly prayed that Cynthia might not materialize. Why he so strongly desired this he could not tell. He liked Lans; enjoyed his visit and companionship, but he hoped he would leave before Cynthia appeared. He grew restless at times and found himself longing to tell Treadwell that the Markhams were coming to The Hollow for Christmas, and the rooms occupied by Lans would be needed. But the days went by and Cynthia kept from sight. The truth was, Sally Taber had gone to Trouble Neck and spread the news and warning.
"You-all bes' stay away," she said; "dis yere Yank be right triflin' and polite. He makes us-all feel like we war dirt under his feet. I clar' I'd like to work an evil charm on him! Ole Mr. Morley he don' take naturally to the woods an' leaves them young gem'men to themselves. I keep the do' closed 'twixt them an' me—he makes me feel like there was traps set fo' my feet."