tle to look forward to in returning to school after the
Christmas holidays.

"Hullo! there goes the tea-bell," exclaimed. Miles. "Cheer up," he
added, apparently reading my thoughts; "we shall meet again--who knows?"

"Who knows?" I echoed, as cheerfully as I could, and forcing a laugh.

My friend turned and stole softly from the room. If some one could
have told us that we should see each other again before the year was
out, we might have spent the night in guessing, and yet have remained
without the remotest idea as to how, when, and where that extraordinary
meeting was to take place.

CHAPTER VIII.

MY JOURNEY BEGINS.

It was certainly a bitter pill for me to swallow watching the boys
start for home on the Wednesday and Thursday mornings, and what made
the punishment seem all the harder was saying good-bye to Miles. Had
it not been for that hare-brained antic, I might at least have
travelled with him on the coach as far as Tod's Corner, and so enjoyed
his companionship a few hours longer. A school, after the boys have
gone home for the holidays, is a very desolate place. I had my meals
at the headmaster's table, but, being in disgrace, ate them in solemn
silence, and was glad enough when the ordeal was over, and I was free
once more to go where I liked.

At length, on the Thursday afternoon, I found myself sitting at one of
the long rows of desks in the empty schoolroom. The unusual quiet
seemed to weigh on my spirits; and though I tried to cheer myself with
the thought that only a few hours now remained before I should be on
the way home, yet a certain gloomy foreboding as of impending trouble
seemed to weigh on my mind. What could it be? After all, the loss of
one day did not much matter, and I felt sure that when I explained the
full circumstances of the case to my parents, they would take a lenient
view of my foolish midnight escapade. Sitting idly mending an old
quill pen which I had found on the floor, my thoughts turned once more
to Miles and his uncertain future, and from this I came to recalling
the incidents of my visit to Coverthorne.

What could be the explanation of that strange noise in the so-called
haunted room? Of course, there were no such things as ghosts, and
yet--and yet I myself had beaten a hasty retreat when left alone with
those unearthly sounds, the origin of which it was impossible to trace.
The very recollection of the experience made me turn and glance
uneasily