o you.--My respects to Miss Goldthwaite,
parson." Once more Uncle Josh pulled his forelock, and shambled out
of the room.

"It doesn't cause them much concern anyway," said Mr. Keane when the
door closed. "They are a bright pair; I should be afraid of that
woman myself. How that mite of a girl stands it I don't know."

Before Mr. Goldthwaite had time to answer, the door opened, and a
very eager, excited-looking boy appeared on the threshold.

"Well, Tom, my boy," said Mr. Keane, holding out his hand, "the
bargain's sealed. You belong to me now."

"Has Uncle Josh--has Aunt Hepsy said I might?" he said breathlessly.
"Oh, it is too good to be true!"

"True enough," said Mr. Keane, laughing at the lad's manner.--"Please
assure him of it, Mr. Goldthwaite."

Mr. Goldthwaite laid his hand on the lad's shoulder, and bent his
grave eyes on his beaming face. "I congratulate you," he said
heartily. "And I hope that by-and-by all Pendlepoint will be proud of
the name of Tom Hurst."

Tom drew his hand across his eyes. "I can't help it, sir," he said
apologetically. "But if you knew how much I've wished for this and
dreamed of it.--Oh, I feel I can never be grateful enough to you, Mr.
Keane!"

"Nonsense," said Mr. Keane. "Well, we must be going. Show us the way
out, will you, Tom? Your aunt has deserted us. I don't leave for a
fortnight yet. I shall see you again in a day or two."

Aunt Hepsy, however, had not altogether forgotten the duties of
hospitality, and now reappeared and asked them to stay to tea. Her
face had cleared a little, and she seemed to regret her previous
rudeness. Her invitation, however, was courteously declined.

"You're here, I see, Tom," she said severely. "Well, I hope you're
properly grateful to Mr. Keane for doing so much for you. An' I hope
ye'll mend yer ways, an' be a better boy than ye've been."

"I am very grateful, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom very quietly. "And I will
try to be what you say."

Something in his face and eyes touched even Aunt Hepsy, and it came
upon her very suddenly to wonder if she had not treated him a little
unjustly. "He's a biddable cretur, too," she said to Mr. Keane. "An'
p'raps he'll take more kindly to your kind o' life than ours. I don't
think much o' them useless ways o' livin' myself, but there's
differences."

"Some day perhaps, Miss Strong, when Tom comes back a great man,"
laughed Mr. Keane, as he shook hands with her and Tom, "you'll admit
you've changed yo