would also act as his confidential clerk and office
manager, would be unable to accept the position, as he was called to
England by the death of his father, and would in future make his home
there. This was a serious loss to Mr. Fowler, for he had known this man
for years, and felt deep satisfaction at the thought of having such an
efficient assistant.

"And now," he said, when he had told Mr. Reeve all the facts, "who under
heavens am I to find to fill his place at such short notice, I'd like to
know? Such men are not to be picked up at every corner."

"Read that letter," was all Mr. Reeve said, and handed him Toinette's
letter.

Mr. Fowler took the letter, and began reading with a very mystified
expression, as though he could not for the life of him understand what a
letter from Mr. Reeve's daughter had to do with his private affairs. But,
as he read, his expression changed, and when he came to the end he said:
"Well, it may be Kismet; can't say. Funnier things have happened. Look
into it, will you, Clayton? I'm sick and tired of the thing, particularly
when I thought all important details settled."

And Clayton Reeve did "look into it" very thoroughly, leaving no stone
unturned which would help him to learn all that it was necessary to know
about Mr. Burgess, and nothing could possibly have been more gratifying
than what he learned. As a result of it, Mr. Burgess was offered the
position from June first, and the salary offered with it seemed a princely
one to him as compared to the one he had received as clerk in the bank in
Montcliff. It would be hard to understand the happiness which that
schoolgirl letter brought to one family, or how the writing of it changed
two lives very materially, and a third completely.

CHAPTER XXIX

COMMENCEMENT

Many a girl has asked: "Why do they call it commencement when it is really
the end?" If they have not found out why, I am not going to tell the
secret. But one thing I have found out is this: Never in after life do we
ever feel _quite_ so important as we do when that day has been reached
upon our life's calendar.

It was no exception at Sunny Bank, and when the fifth of June dawned that
year it found a busy, bustling household. No, I am not telling the exact
truth: it was not when it _dawned_, but fully three hours later, and then
began the hurry-scurry which continued till all were assembled in chapel
to listen to the opening prayer of the good man who had for