Life seemed to change somehow at Silver Bush after Tillytuck’s going though it was hard just to put your finger on the change. The evenings in the kitchen didn’t seem half so jolly for one thing, lacking the rivalry in tale-telling between Judy and Tillytuck. Tillytuck’s place had been taken by young Jim Macaulay from Silverbridge who was efficient as a worker but was only “young Jim Macaulay.” He occupied the granary chamber but when evening came he departed on his own social pursuits. He never went on “sprees” and was more amenable to suggestion than Tillytuck had been, so that Long Alec liked him. But Judy said the pinch av salt had been left out of him. Pat was just as well pleased; nobody could ever take Tillytuck’s place and it was as well there was nobody to try. She spent more evenings at the Long House that winter than ever before. David sometimes came down but he was always rather a misfit in Judy’s kitchen. She Mr. Kirked him so politely and always shut up like a clam. He and Pat were, as Pat frequently told herself, very happy in their engagement. They had such a nice friendly understanding. No nonsense. Just good comradeship and quiet laughter and a kiss or two. Pat did not mind David’s kisses at all.

So another winter slipped away…another miracle of spring was worked…another summer brought its treasures to Silver Bush. And one evening Pat read in the paper that the Ausonia had arrived at Halifax. The next day the wire came from Hilary. He was coming to the Island for just a day.

Rae found Pat in a kind of trance in their room.

“Rae…Hilary is coming…Hilary! He will be here tomorrow night.”

“How jolly!” gasped Rae. “I was just a kid when he went away but I remember him well. Pat, you look funny. Won’t you be glad to see him?”

“I would be glad to see the Hilary who went away,” said Pat restlessly. “But will he be? He must have changed. We’ve all changed. Will he think I’ve got terribly old?”

“Pat, you goose! When you laugh you look about seventeen. Remember he has grown older himself.”

But Pat couldn’t sleep that night. She re-read the telegram before she went to bed. It meant Hilary…Hilary and the fir-scented Silver Bush…Hilary and the water laughing over the rocks in happiness…Hilary and snacks in Judy’s kitchen. But did it…could it? Could the gulf of years be bridged so easily?