wed her head, and said,--

"God bless them, sir, I was very sinful 'Honour your father and mother.'
I'm no schollard, but I know the Commandments. Let Lenny go. But he'll
soon forget me, and mayhap he'll learn to be ashamed of me."

"There I will trust him," said the parson; and he contrived easily to
reassure and soothe her.

It was not till all this was settled that Mr. Dale drew forth an
unsealed letter, which Mr. Richard Avenel, taking his hint, had given to
him, as from Leonard's grandparents, and said, "This is for you, and it
contains an inclosure of some value."

"Will you read it, sir? As I said before, I'm no schollard."

"But Leonard is, and he will read it to you."

When Leonard returned home that evening, Mrs. Fairfield showed him the
letter. It ran thus:--

DEAR JANE,--Mr. Dale will tell you that we wish Leonard to come to
us. We are glad to hear you are well. We forward, by Mr. Dale, a
bank-note for L50, which comes from Richard, your brother. So no
more at present from your affectionate parents,

JOHN AND MARGARET AVENEL.

The letter was in a stiff female scrawl, and Leonard observed that two
or three mistakes in spelling had been corrected, either in another pen
or in a different hand.

"Dear brother Dick, how good in him!" cried the widow. "When I saw
there was money, I thought it must be him. How I should like to see Dick
again! But I s'pose he's still in Amerikay. Well, well, this will buy
clothes for you."

"No; you must keep it all, Mother, and put it in the Savings Bank."

"I 'm not quite so silly as that," cried Mrs. Fairfield, with contempt;
and she put the L50 into a cracked teapot.

"It must not stay there when I 'm gone. You may be robbed, Mother."

"Dear me, dear me, that's true. What shall I do with it? What do I want
with it, too? Dear me! I wish they hadn't sent it. I sha' n't sleep in
peace. You must e'en put it in your own pouch, and button it up tight,
boy."

Lenny smiled, and took the note; but he took it to Mr. Dale, and begged
him to put it into the Savings Bank for his mother.

The day following he went to take leave of his master, of Jackeymo, of
the fountain, the garden. But after he had gone through the first of
these adieus with Jackeymo--who, poor man, indulged in all the lively
gesticulations of grief which make half the eloquence of his countrymen,
and then, absolutely blubbering, hurried away--Leonard himself was
so affected that he could