With a startled exclamation, the captain sprang to his feet, and looked questioningly at his wife.

“Jimmy, did you say?  In there?”

“Yes, I am sure of it.  Come, see for yourself,” and Mrs. Britt led her half-dazed husband into the little bed-room.

The doctor remained behind in the kitchen.  His thoughts, however, were not upon his pipe, which was sending wreaths of blue smoke into the air.  He was thinking of far deeper things.  His brief career as a medical man had already brought him into close touch with many strange circumstances.  He liked to ponder them over very carefully.  But this was altogether different, and as he sat there, he endeavoured to imagine the life of the son who had gone from home years before, and had returned in such a sad condition.

He was aroused by the captain’s hand laid heavily upon his shoulder.

“It’s him, doc!  My God, it’s Jimmy!” It was all the old man could say.  He shook like a leaf, and sitting suddenly down upon a splint-bottom chair, he buried his face in his hands.

“Are you sure?” the doctor asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Sure,” was the low reply.  “Strange I didn’t know him at first.  But it’s him all right.  And, say, doc, ye’ll bring him around, won’t ye?” and the captain raised his eyes appealingly to his companion’s face.

“I shall do all I can, captain, never fear.”

“May the Lord bless ye, doc, fer them words.  Isn’t it lucky that ye’re here to-night?  Jist think what the scouts have done.  But fer them my Jimmy would be lyin’ out there in the storm.  And, say, d’ye believe in God?”

“Y-yes, I suppose so,” was the somewhat doubtful response.

“But ye’ll be sure now, dead certain, won’t ye, doc?”

“Why?  I don’t catch the drift of your meaning.”

“Ye don’t?  Why, that’s queer, after what He’s done fer my Jimmy.  Who else sent them scouts out there to bring my boy in but Him?  And to think that all of these years I’ve been scoffin’ at Him and religion, and then fer Him to do so much fer me and my Jimmy!”

The doctor knew not how to reply, and so continued his smoke, while the captain sat nearby with bent head, deep in thought.  The storm still raged without, but there was silence in the kitchen, save for the kettle which sang upon the stove.  But a more intense silence reigned within the little bed-room adjoining, where a mother knelt by the side of her only child, holding his cold right hand in hers, and offering up wordless prayers that he might be spared.

News of Jimmy Britt’s return soon spread throughout the parish, and everywhere there was the buzz of gossip as to the strange way he had come home.  Some thought he must have been drunk, which caused him to fall upon the road.  Others believed that he was so poor that he could not afford to be driven from the train.  But all were of one mind that his not writing to his parents for years was most mysterious.