d, where there was
actually a coach passing! And there was a finger-post at the corner.
She had surely seen that finger-post before--"To St. Ogg's, 2 miles."

The gipsy really meant to take her home, then. He was probably a good
man after all, and might have been rather hurt at the thought that she
didn't like coming with him alone. This idea became stronger as she
felt more and more certain that she knew the road quite well, when, as
they reached a cross-road, Maggie caught sight of some one coming on a
horse which seemed familiar to her.

"Oh, stop, stop!" she cried out. "There's my father!--O father,
father!"

The sudden joy was almost painful, and before her father reached her
she was sobbing. Great was Mr. Tulliver's wonder, for he had been
paying a visit to a married sister, and had not yet been home.

"Why, what's the meaning o' this?" he said, checking his horse, while
Maggie slipped from the donkey and ran to her father's stirrup.

"The little miss lost herself, I reckon," said the gipsy. "She'd come
to our tent at the far end o' Dunlow Lane, and I was bringing her where
she said her home was. It's a good way to come arter being on the
tramp all day."

"Oh yes, father, he's been very good to bring me home," said Maggie--"a
very kind, good man!"

"Here, then, my man," said Mr. Tulliver, taking out five shillings.
"It's the best day's work you ever did. I couldn't afford to lose the
little wench. Here, lift her up before me."

"Why, Maggie, how's this, how's this?" he said, as they rode along,
while she laid her head against her father and sobbed. "How came you
to be rambling about and lose yourself?"

"O father," sobbed Maggie, "I ran away because I was so unhappy--Tom
was so angry with me. I couldn't bear it."

"Pooh, pooh!" said Mr. Tulliver soothingly; "you mustn't think o'
running away from father. What 'ud father do without his little wench?"

"Oh no, I never will again, father--never."

Mr. Tulliver spoke his mind very strongly when he reached home that
evening, and Maggie never heard one reproach from her mother, or one
taunt from Tom, about running away to be queen of the gipsies.

Chapter X.

TOM AT SCHOOL.

In due time Tom found himself at King's Lorton, under the care of the
Rev. Walter Stelling, a big, broad-chested man, not yet thirty, with
fair hair standing erect, large light-gray eyes, and a deep bass voice.

The schoolmaster had made up his mind to bring Tom