and now?"

"Nothing, only thought I'd tell you about that old Quaker man you like."

"Everybody likes. What about him?"

"He's gone away. Ma says he won't never live to come back again."

"Victoria--Jones, what are you saying?"

"That Mr. Quaker Burn, up Clove way, had been took to Ne' York."

"I guess you're mistaken. We would have heard about it if it were so.
Now, if you please, though, I should like Master Gladstone to be 'took'
home. If you'll hold his other hand we'll get him there the quicker."

"I guess I'll go up and set a spell; you take him," remarked Victoria,
and turned to ascend the slope.

Amy sighed: "Something must be done to stop this!" Then she lifted her
eyes and scanned the white dusty road which circled Bareacre knoll, and
across which lay the Jones's cottage. A wagon was driving leisurely
along this highway, and it had a most familiar appearance. A moment's
watching showed it to belong to the Clove Farm, and it was Adam Burn's
"hired man" who was driving in it. Her heart sank. What if Victoria had
spoken the truth?

So she hurried her young charge to his home, and waiting only to have
her pail filled with the milk, ran back to intercept the approaching
vehicle.

"Good morning, Israel. How's dear old Adam?"

"Only the Lord knows. Sarah Jane's got him."

"She hasn't! Don't tell me!"

"But she has, though."

"Where?"

"York."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Why?"

"Same old story. If she hadn't gone to Europe, she'd had him last year.
I knew how 'twould be when she come home this summer an' begun to send
him the letters. She's the powerfulest hand to do her duty that ever
was. Everything else has to give way."

Amy's hand trembled so that her milk began to trickle over the sides of
her pail.

"That's what it meant, then, that dear, precious old fellow. He knew he
was going to leave us, that First Day we spent at the farm. That was why
his words in the meeting-house were so like a farewell. It is too bad!
It must have broken his heart."

"No, it didn't. He didn't want to go, not a mite; but there wasn't no
heart-break, _not in sight_. If there was, he kept it hid. But he went
all round the place, into every shed and building, pointing out things
that should be done, and being most particular about the flowers and
garden. He told me to take care of everything just as if he was coming
back to-morrow. But he'll never. He'll never."

"Israel, you shall not say that! He must come b