"I was just
thinking out loud, I guess. It will be all right for you and John. Run
along to bed now, and don't let a worry come, even into your dreams."
"I would rather give John up a thousand times than have you like Jake
Vodell," she said. "You shan't even _think_ that way."
When she was gone, Peter Martin filled and lighted his pipe again, and
for another hour sat alone.
Whether or not his thoughts bore any relation to the doctrines of Jake
Vodell, they led the old workman, on the following day, to pay a visit
to Adam Ward at his home on the hill.
CHAPTER XXII
OLD FRIENDS
It was Sunday morning and the church bells were ringing over the little
city as the old workman climbed the hill to Adam Ward's estate.
There was a touch of frost in the air. The hillside back of the
interpreter's hut was brown. But the sun was bright and warm and in
every quarter of the city the people were going to their appointed
places of worship. The voice of the Mill was silenced.
Pete wondered if he would find Adam at home. He had not thought about
it when he left the cottage--his mind had been so filled with the
object of his visit to the man who had once been his working comrade
and friend.
But Adam Ward was not at church.
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