ight penny and
his bestest pocket-handkerchief with lace upon it.

But the box stuck fast.

Nothing daunted, Harry wrestled with it. He pushed and pulled, under
the bed and behind the bed, this way and that, till suddenly, as he
pulled, the obstruction which held it gave way, the box came out with
a run, and Harry toppled over backwards with a crash, and an awful
sound of breaking china, and a rushing of cold water.

For a moment Harry lay there stunned, the broken toilet jug lying
in shivers around him, the water soaking into him from head to foot;
then, as he came to himself, his startled screams filled the room and
he struggled up and sat looking round.

He was more frightened than hurt, but the sight of that broken jug
terrified him more than the fall and the wetting. Wouldn't Aunt Jane
whip him when she knew!

There was great tenacity in Harry's character. He gathered himself up
at last, and opened the box and found his frock and its pocket and its
precious contents. He looked at the frock a long time lovingly, then
he replaced it, pushed back the box, set the bed straight and gave an
involuntary shiver.

He was soaked from head to foot, and though it was summer weather, he
felt very, very cold.

He sat down by the empty fireplace and shivered again, and by-and-by
he fell fast asleep and dreamed strange dreams, but always he was
very, very cold.

CHAPTER XXII.

OUT OF THE NORTH.

In the stillness of a quiet summer evening, when the darkness
had fallen and the stars looked down from a far sky, and the soft
moonbeams shone silvery on dark trees and velvet lawns, John Gray,
Bank Manager, knelt at an open window, his arms resting on the sill,
his face turned skywards.

In the silence, in the stillness of that summer night, the great
battle of his life was being fought out beneath the stars.

Backwards and forwards raged the battle. Thoughts of what he must give
up if he turned his back on this temptation and did not satisfy his
desire for strong drink; the friends who would flaunt him; the friends
who would pity him for his weakness in yielding to the influence of
abstaining noodles; the friends who would smile and bid one another
wait a bit, and John Gray would be taking his glass with them again;
the awful haunting fear that they were right, that he would only make
himself ridiculous and never hold out; all these things seemed ranged
on one side against him, and on the other side what was the