nearly noon before
Motors whirled past him . The hill that he remembered as a veritable mountain was a mere rise in the straightened road over which a fast car plunged at full speed , covering him with dust and leaving behind a sickening odor . He struck off into a wood-lot ; here and in the pastures and meadows he found himself again . It was nearly noon before he came up the lane that led to the Ed Price farm . This was off the beat of the motors , away from the new `` estates , '' at the end of a grassy road bordered by gray birches . The ample old house he remembered very well with its square central chimney and stretch of outbuildings that joined the yellow barn . At his knock a broad-shouldered , smiling woman came to the door , and after a moment 's hesitation exclaimed : -- `` Why , Vick , -- can it be you ? ''