d eyes, though not for the young tutor; but it effectually kept her
from either looking at or thinking of the governess. And she forgot them
both immediately. They were merely the tutor and the governess.

As for the boys, they chattered vehemently all tea-time about Mr. Roy,
and their envy of the "jolly" life he was going to; then their minds
turned to their own affairs, and there was silence.

The kind of silence, most of us know it, when any one belonging to a
household, or very familiar there, goes away on a long indefinite
absence. At first there is little consciousness of absence at all; we
are so constantly expecting the door to be opened for the customary
presence that we scarcely even miss the known voice, or face, or hand.
By-and-by, however, we do miss it, and there comes a general, loud,
shallow lamentation which soon cures itself, and implies an easy and
comfortable forgetfulness before long. Except with some, or possibly
only one, who is, most likely the one who has never been heard to utter a
word of regret, or seen to shed a single tear.

Miss Williams, now left sole mistress in the school room, gave her
lessons as usual there that Monday morning, and walked with all four boys
on the Links all afternoon. It was a very bright day, as beautiful as
Sunday had been, and they communicated to her the interesting facts,
learned at golfing that morning, that Mr. Roy and his portmanteau had
been seen at Leuchars on the way to Burntisland, and he would likely have
a good crossing, as the sea was very calm. There had lately been some
equinoctial gales, which had interested the boys amazingly, and they
calculated with ingenious pertinacity whether such gales were likely to
occur again when Mr. Roy was in the Bay of Biscay, and, if his ship were
wrecked, what he would be supposed to do. They were quite sure that he
would conduct himself with great heroism, perhaps escape on a single
plank, or a raft made by his own hands, and they consulted Miss Williams,
who of course was peripatetic cyclopedia of all scholastic information,
as to which port in France of Spain he was likely to be drifted to,
supposing this exciting event did happen.

She answered their questions with her usual ready kindliness. She felt
like a person in a dream, yet a not unhappy dream, for she still heard
the voice, still felt the clasp of the strong, tender, sustaining hands.
And tomorrow would be Tuesday.

Tuesday was a wet morning. T