good sign; so the Basins held. No sign so propitious to a
love affair as meeting with one of God's innocent ones--a "natural."
And here was Dr. Spearmint (Uncle Benny) leading the children to
school--the very little ones. They clung to him, and one he carried.

And he was singing, in a sweet, high voice:

"We all have our trials here below,
Sail away to Galilee!
* * * *
There's a tree I see in Paradise,
Sail away to Galilee!
* * * *
Sail away to Galilee,
Sail away to Galilee,
Put on your long white robe of peace,
And sail away to Galilee!"

"Hello! Uncle Benny--'Dr. Spearmint'"--he liked that best. "Well, how
are you? how are you? and have you seen Vesty this morning?"

"Fluke and Gurd 's keepin' company with her this mornin'," said Dr.
Spearmint, in a voice softer than a woman's. "I jest stopped to sing a
little with 'em on the way. I _look_ dreadful," he added, rather
ostentatiously fingering a light blue necktie.

"Oh, no, doctor; fine as usual," exclaimed Notely, anger in his soul,
but with heart-broken eyes.

"I suppose," said the soft, sweet voice, "there 's a great deal o'
passin' in New York, ain't there?"

"What, doctor?"

"A great deal o' passin' there, ain't there?"

"Oh, sights of it! Oh, my, yes! passing along the streets all the
time."

"Some there 's worth four or five thousand dollars, ain't they?" said
the sweet, incredulous voice.

"God bless you! yes, doctor! the more 's the pity," said Notely, with
strange earnestness. "And how 's fruiting?"

"Dangleberries are quite plenty, thank you," the voice replied. When
he had left the little ones at school he would go off and gather
berries; but he would call for them without fail and lead them home.
The little, tired, restless souls always found him out there in the
sweet air and sunshine, waiting. Notely remembered; so he and Vesty
had been led.

He passed, singing, out of sight with the children:

"Sail away to Galilee,
Sail away to Galilee,
Put on your long white robe of peace,
And sail away to Galilee!"

Notely felt a homesick pang. Vesty was his home; he walked on toward
her threshold. Vesty's father had taken a new wife, and Vesty was
almost always seen now with a baby in her arms.

So she was sitting as Notely drew near; and Fluke and Gurdon were
there, with a pretence of fingering their violins. They looked up, as
if expecti