fulness of his own heart: not in any way as if
he set himself up to lecture his listener, but just simply to try to
raise her thoughts from the gnawing anxiety which had laid hold on her.

"Yes," she said, "the bit of sky is beautiful, but it is so far off;
and--don't be angry with me, George, but I wish you would go and find
him. Let me come with you!" she exclaimed.

"No, no; I shall be quicker than you are. I can get over the ground in
half the time."

Neither asked the other where George would look for the truant. Both
had one thought--Jack had been to the quay, and was perhaps on board
one of the ships lying there. He had threatened before that he would
go to sea, and leave Miss Pinckney and her scoldings and fault-findings
behind him.

"If it had not been for his mother he would have done so long ago," he
said. "He loved the sea, and he wished to be a sailor, as his father
had been before him."

As George's quick, firm steps were heard dying away in the distance,
Mrs. Harrison pulled a stool towards her out of the shop, and seated
herself just within the doorway.

She was scarcely conscious of anything but the fear, growing greater
every moment, that Jack--the sunshine of her life, the light of her
eyes--had gone from her. She leaned her head against the door, and
looked up at the sky half unconsciously. As she looked, a blind in one
of the windows of the opposite house was lifted, and the window
cautiously opened, while a head with a tangle of golden hair was thrust
out, and a little voice--clear, like the sound of a thrush in a
tree--sang in sweet dulcet tones some verses of a childish morning
hymn:--

"Now the eastern sky is red,
I, too, lift my little head;
Now the lark sings loud and gay,
I, too, rise to praise and pray.

"Saviour, to Thy cottage home
Once the daylight used to come:
Thou hast often seen it break
Brightly o'er the Eastern lake.

"Blessed Jesus! Thou dost know
What of danger, joy, or woe,
Shall to-day my portion he--
Let me meet it all in Thee."

Here the sweet, clear voice broke off suddenly, for the child saw that
her opposite neighbour on the doorstep was looking up at her.

"Mrs. Harrison," she said, nodding and kissing her hand. "_I_ see you!
I'm coming down when I'm dressed. Uncle Bobo isn't awake yet."

Then the head disappeared, and there was silence for a few minutes.

Presently the bolts of the opposite door were gently drawn, a